50 Things Linstead
by lindsayandhalstead
Summary: Just 50 fun words prompts about all the things Linstead. Rated M for future chapters.
1. Prompts

This is the idea I came across when reading fics in the Covert Affairs fandom, and decided to try the idea for Linstead. I've chosen 50 word prompts (50 things Linstead).

The idea for this little project is not mine, so credit is where credit's due. Here is the link to the original fic: s/7478285/1/Annie-and-Auggie-Fifty-Things.

* * *

1\. Coffee.

He memorized her order the first day they met.

2\. Nadia.

She gave Jay amusing glances that morning, knowing well that Erin had not slept at her place.

3\. Heart eyes.

Maybe they didn't realize how they looked at each other, but other people sure did.

4\. Snow fights.

Snow, mistletoe and a whole lot of smut.

5\. Hands.

She didn't know how she really felt, until he held her hand that night.

6\. Whiskey.

She really should not mix her drinks.

7\. Support.

It was when she showed up that night, after they took his gun and badge away, that he realized what having her support meant to him.

8\. Worry.

He left no room for arguments, as he pressed an ice pack against her head.

9\. Surveillance van.

She always considered surveillance boring. Until he joined the unit.

10\. Scrabble.

She yawned and then smirked. "Who knew Scrabble could be so tiring?"

11\. Platt's front desk.

Nothing ever made it past Platt's desk. Not even their walk of shame.

12\. Dinner at Voight's.

When your boss was also your girlfriends foster father that was bound to make family dinners a bit awkward. Right?

13\. Silent communication.

They never needed to speak in order to know what the other one was thinking or feeling.

14\. The 300.

That car has been a witness to some pretty heavy flirting.

15\. Undercover.

They were a good team.

16\. Beers.

A cold beer after a long day always made everything better.

17\. I have your back.

She knew he had her back. In and out of work.

18\. Shooting range.

He knew she'd win. But trying to beat her was so damn fun.

19\. Bunny.

He knew how conflicted she felt and always provided support.

20\. Mom talk.

When she talked about her mom, it was always about Camille, and he understood why.

21\. Locker room.

They avoided it after getting caught that one time. What was Burgess even doing at the precinct so late?

22\. Northern Winsconsin.

Cabin in the woods. Walks in the forest. Poison ivy. Ouch.

23\. Vest.

She could never get it on quite right. That's why she had him.

24\. Trust.

He trusted her with his life.

25\. Sex.

It was good. No, it was earth-shattering.

26\. Hope.

He always had hope, even when she didn't give him any reason to have any.

27\. Couch.

"Yup, the function is still great."

28\. The break room.

If the walls could talk…

29\. The knowing looks.

Their eyes spoke a language of their own, one that nobody else understood.

30\. Twinning.

They never did it on purpose. Except for that one time.

31\. Army.

She didn't pretend to understand, but she was always there.

32\. Women's shelter.

He didn't even ask. He simply went with her.

33\. Nightmares.

She woke up in his arms and it took him a while to convince her that it wasn't real.

34\. Boxing.

"I'm pretty sure that doesn't qualify as boxing anymore," she teased with a mischievous grin.

35\. Pizza, beer and sex.

Or the otherwise called, The Linstead special.

36\. Babe.

It slipped. It stuck.

37\. Double date.

Erin and Jay. Will and Nina. Enough said.

38\. Vulnerability.

He made her vulnerable, and it wasn't a bad thing.

39\. Jay's guy.

She caved in on that flat screen, just so she finally got to meet one of Jay's guys.

40\. Sitting on each other's desks.

They both enjoyed the view.

41\. Past.

She knew there were still things about his past she didn't know, and she knew it wasn't for lack of trust that he didn't tell her. Some demons were simply too painful to dig up.

42\. Meeting family.

She coped with his crazy family, which made him love her even more. But he did have to cope with Voight in return, so it was a pretty even situation.

43\. Pillows.

"What about your pillows, babe?" –"I don't need them anymore."

44\. Jealousy.

He thought it was cute, she thought it wasn't funny.

45\. Partners.

The day he met his partner, he didn't imagine he was also meeting the love of his life.

46\. Driving.

"This is why I don't let you drive."

47\. Molly's.

"Hey there, first time I see you around. Can I get you something?"

48\. T-shirt.

He was the victim of a t-shirt thief.

49\. Backup.

"Again? I thought we had a deal."

50\. Case closed.

And they lived happily ever after. Or did they?


	2. Coffee

_**Prompt #1: Coffee - He memorized her order the first day they met.**  
_

Word count: 1098

* * *

Molly's is crowded with regulars, as Jay makes his way across the bar. He greets Gabby, who's polishing glasses, and finds a seat behind the bar. Herrmann quickly sets a beer in front of him.

"On the house," he murmurs and quickly disappears. Jay knows he's still feeling guilty for treating him like a criminal, even though it was completely understandable. He did think Jay was working for Arthur. But he accepts the free beer with a smile, and settles in the comfortable silence.

"Hey, man!" Antonio slides into the seat next to him. In the short time that Jay has known Antonio Dawson, he has come to like and respect him. Not only, because he happened to have dated his sister, but because he was a good cop, and a stand-up man.

"How's it going? Big day tomorrow huh?"

Jay chuckles and nods. "Yeah, you could say that."

"Feels a little like first day of school. You'll be fine. Have you talked to Voight yet?"

"Yeah, I just got back from that." Jay shudders a bit, pausing for a second.

What he knows from meeting Sergeant Hank Voight is: he's intimidating; he's little scary (okay, he's very scary); and he's strict. Luckily, Jay doesn't scare easily, and he can see himself as a part of his unit. He is lucky enough to get the chance. Despite being intimidating, Voight is also the type of man to command respect in a person. Jay likes that.

"He said he couldn't come into this bar. What's up with that?"

"That's a long story. It ends with me working for a guy I put behind bars."

"You put Voight in jail? Do you have a death wish or something?"

"Yeah, or something," Antonio says with a chuckle, and takes a large sip of his beer.

"He didn't say much to me. Only that if I screw up, it'll be your fault," he jokes, "And that detective Lindsay is my new partner."

Antonio grins at the mention and Jay raises his eyebrows in question. "What? Is she a bad cop?"

"Hey, Erin."

"Hey," she replied with a grin, and motions Herrmann, who puts a bottle of her favourite beer on the bar. "Thanks, Herrmann."

"Anytime, kiddo. Thanks for taking that man off the streets," he comments on the arrest of a child molester that they made earlier. "My pleasure." Her expression darkens for a second, before she shakes it off and lights up again.

"Yeah, and no thanks for me," Antonio teases, making Erin laugh. Jay automatically goes back to surveying her. Her laughter is sultry−the kind that sends blood straight to his groin. She's hot, he thinks. The brown hair curls around her face, and her eyes have a sparkle that draws his attention. But it's not the physical appearance he finds so attractive about her. It's how she carries herself; with poise and elegance, but resilience and toughness on the other hand. He gets a feeling that her life hasn't always treated her right, but she made it anyway. Their eyes meet for a second, and for a second Jay thinks she knows what he's thinking about just from looking him in the eyes. Antonio finally decides to make the introductions.

"Erin, this is Jay Halstead, he's joining the Intelligence."

Her face shows understanding as she nods in his direction. "Erin Lindsay, nice to meet you, partner."

"You too," he replies. He raises his beer to her, and she picks her own up. "Here's to having each other's backs."

"I'll drink to that," she smiles and the clink the bottles. "Oh, and I'm driving."

With that, she takes the last sip of her beer and hops onto her feet. She's gone, before he can even begin to comprehend what happened.

"What does she mean, she's driving? Not all the time, right?"

Antonio's laughing echoes in his mind as he goes back to his beer. So, this is his new partner. In that moment, he's only sure about one thing. His life is not going to be boring.

* * *

"Morning," he greets her and she just frowns at him from her desk. "One cream, two sugars?" He sets a cup on her desk with a knowing glance, and her lips spread into a smile. He must have bullied her coffee preference out of Antonio last night after she left.

"Coffee will get you everywhere, Halstead."

She takes the cup and looks up. Their eyes meet for a split second, and it's more than enough for her to know that this is a beginning of something interesting.

"But you're still not driving."

* * *

"How bad was it?" Antonio asks after Jay comes out of Voight's office. He looks as though he's next on the death row.

"Well, he didn't fire me. So, there's that."

"Hey, this is nothing. We've all had the Voight special in the past."

Because he would very much prefer not to talk about it, he just nods and sits down behind his desk. Getting back to work is the idea, while he still has the work, but the concentrating on the job is hard when the sound of Voight's yelling is still echoing in his mind.

A cup of coffee comes into view, and he sees Erin sliding it on his desk with a wink.

"Don't let it get to you too much," she murmurs. He doesn't know what the deal is between Voight and Lindsay, and he doesn't know he well enough to ask yet, but he does realize that nobody in this unit knows Voight better than her.

"Thanks," he replies, smiling at her. She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Let's not braid each other's hair."

He grins. If she memorized his coffee preference, then he's sure he can get her to let him drive. Even if it's just one time, he assures himself as she scoffs again.

After that, the partners fall into a playful comradeship. The banter between them is savage and never-ending. They make each other laugh, and annoy each other to death. They get each other coffee, and he occasionally throws in a muffin, because he learns she loves food more than anything. She buys him beer in return. She teases him about being a better shot than him, and he keeps questioning her about the nature of her relationship with Voight. She never lets him drive, and he complains about it all the time.

But at the end of the day, they both know with an absolute certainty, that when a push comes to shove, they can count on each other.


	3. Nadia

Thank you so much for all the feedback! I really appreciate it. Here's another one, I hope you enjoy!

 ** _Prompt #2: Nadia - She gave Jay amusing glances that morning, knowing well that Erin had not slept at her place._**

Word count: 1996

* * *

The first time Nadia and Jay really hang out is shortly after she gets out of rehab. Erin gets home that day, looking like the day has beaten her down−her hair a mess and the dark circles under her eyes showing how tired she really is. The dark circles that weren't so strange to Nadia a while ago, but she now knows they shouldn't be there.

Nadia's entire face has changed so much since she got out of rehab. It glows with happiness and health. She looks up from the couch and smiles at her. "Hey. I didn't know when you'd get home, but there is leftover Chinese if you want it."

Erin smiles weakly and shakes her head in response.

"Bad day at the office?" Nadia wonders. Sometimes, she's not sure if she should pry. But she wants Erin to know that she can talk to her about anything. Nadia hasn't been with her for long, but she feels they're friends anyway. Erin is the one that saved her life after all.

"Something like that," Erin offers vaguely. The truth is she doesn't want to talk about it. She just wants to eat junk food and forget about the pile of paperwork she left at work.

"I'm not really feeling the leftover Chinese today. How about a pizza?"

"I'm always up for pizza," Nadia chuckles with a grin, so Erin calls in to make an order. Five minutes later, the doorbell rings.

"Man, that has to be the fastest pizza ever! Hurry up, I'm hungry."

Erin laughs, knowing that Nadia had eaten not too long ago from the smell of Chinese food still lingering in the apartment. But she remembers being eighteen and always hungry. She prepares the wallet, but it turns out Nadia was right. No pizza could ever have been delivered so fast. She opens the door, still mid-laugh, to find her partner standing in the doorway.

"I was in the neighbourhood," he murmurs and holds out a six-pack. "I figured you could use some company after today." Their eyes meet for a second, before she motions him in, trying to hide the sudden tears in her eyes. She knows he said he's always got her back, and she believes it. But she has never had a partner, who took that responsibility outside of work too. Jay, though, is different. He checks up on her, he feeds her and brings her beer, and they watch stupid documentaries together, falling asleep while mocking the contents. She likes the ones about serial killers the best, and he digs the animal ones.

Nadia greets him from the couch, and he makes himself comfortable next to her, while Erin opens up a beer for him, and pays for the pizza (because this time it is the pizza delivery).

When she comes back with the pizza, Jay and Nadia are already reminiscing about that time Nadia kicked Ruzek in the nuts. They're both laughing about it, and it warms her heart a little. It looks like family to her.

"Good thing I ordered the big one," she teases Jay and leaves him with the carton.

"Extra cheese, too. It's like you knew I was coming," he manages with his mouth already full.

They all slip into an easy conversation, sharing funny stories and watching TV. None of them brings up work, because it's what they're all desperately trying to forget. But it's 3am when Jay leaves and Nadia doesn't miss the hushed conversation between Erin and Jay before he does, and neither does she miss the longing looks between the two.

* * *

"What's going on between you and Halstead?" She asks casually, as to not put Erin off.

"We're partners," she says, eyeing Nadia with suspicion. She notices the evasive eyes and the grin, and she rolls her eyes at her. "It's not like that," she assures her.

They're driving to work together, because Nadia is working at the precinct now. Erin is still cautious with her, but she seems to be doing great. She makes sure that Nadia knows she can lean on her, if she's struggling, but she seems to be enjoying her newly discovered life. She stays up late reading, and she in no way shows signs of missing her old life.

"He's hot. You should totally tap that," Nadia adds, laughing. "I would."

"Go for it," Erin mutters, annoyed with the direction this conversation is going in.

"I would, but darling, he's not into me. He's into you."

* * *

Erin arrives at her place late at night. Or should she say very early. Jay got called in for a case, and even though he told her to stay as long as she wanted, she felt weird lingering around. She feels like she still smells of him, his soap and the subtle scent of his cologne caught up in her nostrils. If she closes her eyes, she can still feel his hands on her, after all this time.

She knows she has to get ready for work, so she makes do with a couple hours of sleep they got after ravishing each other. She hops in the shower, instantly missing the smell of him. When she wanders back to the kitchen in her bathrobe, Nadia is already up and waiting with coffee.

"How's Jay?"

"He's fine." She curses herself for giving in to her provocations. "I mean, he was fine when I saw him at work before."

"Sure, and when you picked up your clothes off his floor earlier?"

"Well by then, he was even better," Erin smirks and takes a sip of her coffee, while she waits for the news to explode in Nadia's head.

"How was it? How did it happen? Was it good? From the way he looks, I bet it was mind-blowing!"

* * *

After being bombarded for two hours, Erin drops Nadia off at work and heads to work as well. Nadia makes her way up to Intelligence, where she takes the spot at her desk. She sees Jay looking awfully chipper that morning, and she grins, knowing the reason for that very well.

"Morning, detective," she smiles and he smiles back. "Had a good night, did you?"

It takes a minute, until it dawns on him that she lives with Erin.

"Is this the part where you ask me about my intentions with your friend?" He teases, lowering his voice.

"I know your intentions pretty well." She wiggles her eyebrows for emphasis and smirks. "But if you ever hurt her, I have worked here long enough to know how to get rid of the body," she says seriously. It won't be necessary, she knows, because the love that shines in his eyes is visible from twenty miles away. If this ends badly, it won't be him hurting Erin. It will be the other way around. And if it comes to that, she will feel sorry for him.

* * *

Jay wakes up thirsty and wanders to the kitchen in Erin's apartment. The apartment is lit enough, because of the moonlight streaming through the window, but he sees a small light on.

"We keeping you up?"

"Nah, I'm reading this super interesting book about serial killers," Nadia murmurs, turning a page. "Can't believe you were able to tear yourselves apart from each other."

"Har," he replies and pours himself a glass of water.

"Needed to rehydrate, did you?"

It's not possible to see in the poor lightening of the apartment, but she swears he blushes at her comment. It was one of the few details she dragged out of Erin.

"Going back to sleep now, maybe I'll find my dignity on the way," he chuckles and retreats.

"Oh, by the sounds I hear, your dignity is just fine."

He fights the urge to slam the door in her laughing face.

* * *

They find Nadia's body. She cries. He holds her. It's a long night.

* * *

She never watches the serial killer documentaries anymore. It hurts too much. The urge to throw something at the TV is too strong. The memories of the three of them, lounging on the couch and watching them together, too fresh.

* * *

She's drying the dishes, thinking about having to pay the bills. The date on the calendar reminds her, and she feels the plate slipping out of her fingers. The loud crash makes Jay come from the bathroom, to see if she's okay.

"Today would have been her birthday," she murmurs, and she doesn't need to elaborate. He knows who she is talking about without names. He knows from the heartbroken look on her face that she still gets sometimes, when the memories are too strong.

He also knows the feelings of guilt that accompany her thoughts. It took him a while to get through to her, but he knows now that Erin blamed herself for Nadia's death, not only, because she was the one that got her into the business, but also because if it weren't Erin's birthday, Nadia wouldn't have gone out alone that day.

There is no reasoning with grief. He knows that, and even though consciously, Erin knows that she's not to blame for Nadia's death, subconsciously she still feels responsible.

"We could go see her," she suggests and he nods, embracing her gently. She rests her head on his shoulder and he feels her tears wet his shirt. He doesn't know how long they stand there like that, but when she looks at him, she seems somehow lighter.

* * *

"Hey, Nad. Happy Birthday," she chokes on the words, as the tears come again, and she lets them fall freely. No longer is she captured by her grief. She knows how to handle it now.

Jay joins in her congratulations, and they lay the bouquet on the ground together.

"She loved holidays. All of them."

"I know." He never tells her how excited Nadia was about the party she was planning for Erin. How she planned every detail, and how happy she was to do something nice for Erin. He knows it would only make her feel worse, and that is the last thing he wants. He remembers, though.

"We miss you," he murmurs, truthfully. Because her absence from their lives still hurts, and it always will. And he's not entirely sure there will ever come a time when he won't look at her desk with sadness, or when he will be able to eat Black Sabbath burgers without thinking of her. It might not have seemed it, but she became a big part of their lives.

This was the first time she was able to come, since the funeral. But she sees somebody had to be coming to the grave, because there is a burnt candle on it, and withered flowers. She silently watches Jay take the flowers and the candle off the grave.

"Have you been coming here?" She asks.

"A couple of times," he shrugs. "I thought I'd keep her updated on you until you were able to do it yourself."

Her eyes fill with tears again, but this time, not from grief. But from the overwhelming love she feels in her chest that clenches her heart and causes a knot forming in her throat.

She turns to the grave for the last time and nods. "You were right."

A sudden flashback causes her to smile.

" _You don't even know how lucky you are. If only somebody looked at me like he looks at you," Nadia said dreamily. "I'm telling you, Erin. You hit the jackpot. Don't ever let him go."_

"I won't," she whispers and Jay looks at her, confused.

"She'll get it," she explains and he smiles. "Thanks for coming here, by yourself, and now, with me."

She presses a gentle kiss on his cheek and lays her head on his shoulder as they slowly walk away from the grave and towards the car. Both feeling somewhat lighter, and both filled with memories they are never letting go.


	4. Heart Eyes

**A/N: Thank you for all the lovely reviews. I'm so happy you're enjoying this series!**

 ** _Prompt #3: Heart Eyes:_** _ **Maybe they didn't realize how they looked at each other, but other people sure did.**  
_

Word count: 646 _  
_

* * *

The first time she really allows herself to look at him is after they've been partners for maybe two months. He says something funny and she throws her head back, as she always does. The fact that he is one of the few people that can make her laugh is just one of the many things she loves about him. Not that she would ever let him know. His ego is already too big.

Her lips are still spread into a grin as she looks at him, perhaps really looks at him for the first time. She has not allowed herself to yet, because they work together and it would be unprofessional, but she allows herself this one time.

And even as she looks at him, she knows it was a mistake. She's a goner.

* * *

She's leaning onto Platt's desk, her lips turned into a slight pout. It's only 8 in the morning, and the day is already conspiring against her. The line for the coffee was too long and she has had a small disagreement with Voight. Even though Trudy always seems to cheer her up, it's not working this time.

Until he walks in.

Her eyes wake up immediately, as she watches him cross the threshold into the precinct and walk towards her. He makes some lame joke and she doesn't know why, but she feels her lips spreading. He slides a steaming cup of coffee to go into her hand and she looks up at him, wide-eyed.

"Happy to make your day," he murmurs, before going up to intelligence.

"Oh, stop it. You're giving me diabetes over here," Platt complains in her typical fashion.

Erin looks at her with surprise.

"Oh, please. You're like radiating love. It's disgusting. Get out of here. Do some detective work."

She's still laughing when she walks the stairs up to intelligence, and nothing can kill her mood that day. Not even Hank yelling at her for the second time that day.

* * *

"Dude. She's been gone for like 5 minutes," Antonio pokes Jay out of his daydream.

"What? Who?" Jay asks after snapping out of it.

"The girl you've been staring at for the past 15 minutes. Brunette, gorgeous, goes by Erin? Rings a bell?" The sarcasm in his voice is hard to hide.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Jay denies immediately. His comment is met by Antonio punching him hard in the shoulder.

"I'm a detective. Give me some credit."

* * *

She doesn't know why she has agreed to this, but the unit is celebrating the end of the year with a dinner. She should have just said she was busy, but somehow, she finds herself stuffed between Antonio and Jay, while everyone listens to Al tell a joke.

It's not all bad. The food, for example, is the redeeming quality of this evening. And the fact that every time she moves her arm, it touches Jay's. That's a pretty redeeming fact as well. And the fact that from time to time their eyes meet makes the evening almost enjoyable.

Most people avoid eye contact to avoid awkwardness. But not Jay. Jay looks her straight in the eyes and lets it linger. They even communicate this way, when they're worried, or amused, or something totally else. And if he can look at her with absolute heart eyes, he can also look at her with looks that unravel. He can look at her with brutal honesty, absolute confusion, or even pure fury.

But the thing that she loves most about his looks, is how they make her feel. Erin feels like he sees something she doesn't. She feels like he sees someone who's worth staying for, and fighting for. And for the first time in forever, she wants to be that person that he sees. She wants to see that person too.


	5. Snow

**A/N: A little Christmas piece, even though it's almost June, but it was posted on tumblr a while ago. I'm sure you won't mind. This chapter is rated M!**

 **THANK YOU so much for all the reviews, I love reading every single one of them, and they motivate me so much. Thank you. You guys are the best!**

 ** _Prompt #4: Snow fights - Snow, mistletoe and a whole lot of smut.  
_**

Word count: _2,486_

* * *

"How did I let you talk me into this?" She mutters as they pull up in the driveway of the cabin. It is so ironic, it is not even funny, but she snorts anyway.

"Oh, I can be very persuasive," he says, cocking his eyebrows suggestively.

She remembers. A slight blush creeps into her cheeks and she shakes her head in disbelief. The cold wind takes her by surprise as she opens the passenger door. It's been a long drive from Chicago to Northern Wisconsin, and she had to let him drive at some point. Right now, she is tired, hungry, and slightly cold, but she refuses to be bitching about it, so she takes the first look at the cabin.

It looks simply like a cabin from the outside. It's definitely bigger than she expected. The building itself surprises her with some of its modern features, like the big windows on the ground and first floor. She imagines it must be nice to lay in bed and admire the snowy landscape from the warm inside.

There is also a big stack of firewood in front of the place, which means they won't freeze to death during their stay there. Jay hasn't been very forthcoming about the place itself, so she finds herself curious to see the inside.

"What's the plan?" She asks when they get out of the car and head towards the cabin.

"I was thinking we should unload our stuff, and then drive to the town and get something to eat?"

She smiles at that, because he knows her so well. "Good idea."

"Safety precaution. I can hear your stomach growling from here. Wouldn't want you to eat me," he teases, as they haul their suitcases up to the front door. He ignores her eyeroll and pulls out the key, letting them inside.

She is pleasantly surprised by the warmth, expecting the cold to follow them inside.

"I had a friend come and start a fire," he explains, and she nods, finally taking the place in. Jay wasn't joking when he said the place has been refurbished. The interior is light, allowing for much of the natural light to come in through the windows. The open space and the bright walls are combined with the warmth of the wood panelling, and she suddenly never wants to leave. It reminds her of family; of that time when Hank and Camille took them on a trip, and they ended up renting a cabin not very different from this one.

The kitchen looks top-notch and there is a comfy-looking sofa in front of a big fireplace. There is a TV on the wall. New, by the looks of it.

The cabin seems to be a perfect mixture of comfort and cosiness.

"You held back on me," she murmurs, completely astonished.

"I wanted you to be surprised."

"I was telling you I don't like to camp, and you said it wouldn't be that bad. You failed to mention a huge cabin that has everything that our apartment does." He smiles, trying to hide the happiness in his eyes when she says the words _our apartment_. He fails.

If the living room is more open and bright, the rest of the cabin is dressed in warm wood. He leads her down the hallway to the bedroom, and she nearly gasps at the enormous, soft bed, occupying almost the entire room. There is an adjoining bathroom, also with a wooden interior, the centre of which is occupied by a huge bathtub.

"It's… Wow."

"I told you," he chuckles and kisses her cheek. "Aren't you glad you let me convince you?"

She truly, really is.

* * *

As planned, after unpacking, they head into town for a warm meal, and also to get some basic food supplies. The cabin is pretty remote, and she doubts they are going to feel like going anywhere for the better part of their stay. He leads her into a small diner. Everyone working there seems to know him, and he makes some quick introductions. He recommends the burger, and when they get their food she is so hungry she could eat a wolf.

"And that cabin is like actually your grandfather's?" She asks with her mouth full and he nods between bites. "Lucky you."

After eating, they go to the store. It takes them two hours to get everything they need. Mostly, because for the first time, they're not taking anything seriously.

They leave the town and the people behind them in anticipation of privacy.

* * *

They make their way back from the car slowly, their stomachs full and their heads heavy from the long drive here. His eyes gleam with mischief as he looks up at the branch above them, which is stacked with snow.

"Don't you dare!" She warns, but she's too late, because he pulls the branch and piles all that snow on top of both of their heads. It sticks to her cap, and her hair, but she doesn't have the time to think about it more, because seconds later, they are involved in a furious snow battle.

She hides behind the tree, making snowballs in the process and throwing them at him, laughing at the top of her lungs for the first time in forever. He throws snow back at her, and they both keep it up until she decides she's had enough, and makes a daring escape for the front porch. He follows her, stopping her before she can escape inside.

Their breathing is heavy and their cheeks red from the cold, but there is a happy gleam in both of their eyes. He suddenly looks up and grins, and before she can look at what he's grinning, he is kissing her hard.

It's not until the next day that she sees the mistletoe above the front door, because at that point she melts into his kiss. They make their way in, without tearing their lips apart for a second, and leave a trail of clothes to the bedroom. Layers and layers of winter clothing slowly coming off, until they can finally feel skin against skin.

Their touches go from hurried to lazy, when they realize they have all the time in the world. There is no case here; no work. It's just them, in the middle of nowhere.

He picks her up, lifting her legs up and hooking them around his waist. He walks them both to the bedroom, laying her down in the middle of the soft bed. The daylight is slowly disappearing outside, and there is a nice white glow from the snow, making her skin shine white.

He trails kisses down her cheeks, making his lips brush against the sensitive skin of her neck. These are light caresses and butterfly kisses that set her skin on fire. She moans into his touches, reaching out her hands to reciprocate.

He moves lower, his palms cupping her breasts, massaging softly. She closes her eyes and lets out a breathless sigh. It only inflames his desire, and he lets out a low, passionate growl. She runs her lips over his jaw line, down his neck. She has always loved the taste of his skin. It's intoxicating. She slides her hands down his back. Her fingers press into his skin, gently, but hard enough to drive him insane.

Her hips buck in anticipation of what's coming, and when he slides inside her completely, she gasps and tosses her head back against the mattress. She wraps her legs around him, giving him better access. They move together in sync, in a room with steamed windows that is filled with moans and sounds of flesh against flesh. Their breaths are shallow, and their hearts pound hard.

"Oh God," she pants, throwing her hand to her side to grasp something−anything−when the first wave of pleasure hits her almost brutally. Her fingers dig into the comforter in fists, as her body tenses up. He groans a second later, reaching his own release, and he falls on top of her, his quick breaths hot against her skin.

He rolls onto his back, and she lifts her head, gazing at him. She softly brushes the sweat-drenched hair off his face, and presses her lips lovingly against his face.

They love each other again that night, between kisses and murmured words of affection, before falling asleep.

* * *

Jay wakes up first the next morning. He opens his eyes to the sight of her, and it shocks him, how beautiful she is. He doesn't know what time it is, but judging by the sunshine coming in through the window, they slept in pretty late.

He takes the time to admire the perfectly shaped lips, the outline of her eyes, and the hair sprayed around her on the pillow like a halo. Her breathing is even, and she looks so peaceful. He reaches out and brushes his fingers across her cheek. Her eyes flutter open, her eyelids heavy with sleep.

"Are you watching me sleep?"

"Me? No," he denies quickly, but smiles and confirms her suspicions.

"I need a shower," she groans, her body a little sore from yesterday's activities.

"How about a bath?"

The big tub is more than capable of fitting them both. It's the first time she's ever taken a bath with someone. Her apartment only has a shower. It feels intimate, and she can't imagine sharing that experience with anyone, but with Jay, it feels natural.

She doesn't know how long they stay in the water, just enjoying each other's company. They talk about everything, without a worry that the phone is going to ring and take their time away. As a matter of fact, they both put their phone on silence the minute they got there. She didn't realize how much they both needed this, until now.

"I'm glad we came here," she says, while she's leaning on his chest, playing with the foam. He catches her hand in his and laces their fingers together.

"Me too," he whispers against her cheek.

She feels his hands on her body, and just like that, the bath is forgotten.

* * *

They get a tree. He insists on chopping one himself, and she helps him drag it into the cabin. They choose a small one, and find a box of old decorations stashed away somewhere. It's not even really Christmas yet, but she already knows, it's her favourite so far.

On the Christmas morning, they sleep in, and when they finally get up at ten, they realize a new portion of snow has them pretty much snowed in.

"I'll have to shovel some of it tomorrow," he says without real worry. "But we should be good for today."

He makes breakfast, because she's a disaster in the kitchen, and then it's time for presents.

"Did you get me a present?" He fakes shock and she rolls her eyes. "I mean, because I didn't get you anything."

She raises her eyebrows jokingly and he snorts. She knows where he's going with this. They have had an entertaining track record when it came to Christmas gifts. That first year, they didn't know each other for very long, so she was surprised when he still got her something. It was a silly coffee mug that she still keeps in the bullpen. She caught Antonio drinking from it once, and was really upset. Since then, nobody dares to touch her mug.

He is referring to the exact thing she had said back then. In fact, he has said it to her every single Christmas since, despite the fact that he always got her a gift.

This year she opted for the game tickets, because she knows it's what will make him the happiest. So, she wrapped two tickets to the Blackhawks game, along with a note, implying he should invite his girlfriend. Just in case he had any other ideas.

"Are you serious?" He grins like a little boy, and she knows that the favour she had to pull in, in order to get those tickets, was worth it. She nods and he wraps her into a hug. "How did you even get those? It's sold out."

"Can't tell you all my secrets," she says and winks.

"Okay, your turn!" He's still grinning and she has to force herself to tear her eyes away from his smile. It's addicting.

She unwraps a small package to find a jewellery box. She feels her heart quicken, because she knows what's inside. A couple of weeks ago, they handled a jewellery robbery, and afterwards he caught her looking at a necklace−this necklace. It's a simple one, a silver chain with a silver crescent moon pendant, laced with what she suspects must be diamonds. It is way too much, but it rests comfortably on her skin when he helps her clasp it, and she never wants to take it off.

The fact that he noticed, and that he remembered exactly which necklace she was looking at makes her heart swell with love. There is a card with three little words written carefully next to each other in his familiar handwriting. Nothing else.

"I love you too," she murmurs between kisses. "Merry Christmas."

* * *

They spend the next week connecting. They watch movies, cuddled up on the sofa. He makes food. Erin is pretty sure none of her clothes are going to fit when they go back. They even find a box of Scrabble and stay up all night playing it, until he has to acknowledge her superiority in the Scrabble department. He shows her his superiority in other departments, and by the end of the week she admits they're pretty even.

They talk too; about the past, and the mistakes they've made. About the future. About their lives. They even talk about office gossip and all the betting pools that are currently happening at the precinct.

For New Years, they decide to stay in. They get a bottle of the most expensive champagne they can find (it's not even that good, because they're in Wisconsin). A bit before midnight they go outside, listening to the complete silence. The snow drowns all the sounds, so they can almost hear their hearts beating.

They press their foreheads together, taking it all in, and at midnight he kisses her. And it's like he has never kissed her before.

"Promise me we'll come back here," she whispers, afraid to disturb the perfect silence.

"I promise."

They're both sad to leave and return to the real world.

It doesn't stop Erin from stealing one more kiss under the mistletoe before they leave; and it doesn't stop Jay from dumping another portion of snow onto her head either.

So maybe they arrive back to Chicago one day late, but with their hearts full and their spirits light, more than ready to once again tackle the routine of everyday life.


	6. Hands

**_Prompt #5: Hands - She didn't know how she really felt, until he held her hand that night.  
_**

Word count: _485_

* * *

Awkwardly, she stands in front of the sliding door of a hospital room. The knot in her throat seems to have gotten bigger, and all the relief she felt earlier is gone, replaced by dread. What if she has lost him forever? What if their partnership is broken beyond repair? She would have nobody else to blame but herself.

She recalls his words, still fresh in her memory, like a balm soothing her aching soul.

 _I'm just glad it was you that they sent it._

She was surprised by the tenderness of his voice and the gentle look in his eyes. So when Hank drove her to her place to get her stuff, she hesitantly asked if they could stop by Med. Equally hesitantly he agreed, probably trying to imagine how she feels at nearly losing her partner and her best friend.

Jay is seated on his bed, cradling his cell phone and staring into nothing. She has to gather courage fast, before Hank finishes his chat with dr. Charles, and comes to get her. She swallows and pushes the door apart.

He lifts his eyes to meet hers, and for a second it's as if she never left. They don't speak for a long time, their eyes locked.

"I'm sorry."

It's just those two words. Whispered. Unedited. Unfiltered. True.

They speak enough to fill hundreds of pages of Russian novels. They gently sketch the remorse she feels, for leaving, and for not having his back when he needed it. In pastel colours, they paint the relief washing over her, because he got away with only a couple of bruises, and she knows better than anyone that bruises can heal. Then they speak of how much she cares for him, and how she would never leave again.

He doesn't say anything, just nods at her words, wishing she'd come closer, so he could wipe the tell-tale tear making its way down her cheek. Reflecting his urge, she approaches the bed, slipping her fingers between his own. He squeezes her hand lightly, and for a brief second, she is transported back to that first moment they ever shared. The moment when she found out what holding his hand felt like, and how it made her realize what she felt for him was something real, and not only ephemeral.

"Voight let you come back?"

"Yeah. There were conditions, but yeah. I'm back."

"That's good," he comments, and she knows that she would put up with any conditions they threw at her, as long as she got to make it right with her partner.

They hold hands like that; him sitting on a hospital bed with a face full of healing bruises, and her standing, her bruises on the inside. Despite their struggles, despite their differences, they feel stronger together. They heal. And that's not to say they will ever forget, but in that moment, they do forgive.


	7. Whiskey

**A/N: I'm not going to pretend, I am extremely disappointed by the lack of feedback on the last two chapters. If I don't get any for this chapter, I don't think I will continue posting this story here anymore, so if you like it, now would be the time to let me know.**

 _ **Prompt #6: Whiskey - She really should not mix her drinks.**  
_

Word count: _2,732_

* * *

She definitely should have stuck with whiskey. It's her drink, and she rarely has a headache after drinking it, unless she really goes overboard. But there was that blue drink that Herrmann gave her, and it tasted surprisingly good for one of Herrmann's concoctions. She has already had a couple before, and it hit her like a bus. She tries to remember what it was called, and decides to name it a 'mistake', as she stumbles through the doorway of the apartment. Her head is spinning, and she finds out just how handy it is to have a tall strong boyfriend to lean on. She tells him as much.

"Come on, drunkie. Let's get you to bed."

He doesn't seem mad, she decides. And she suddenly doesn't feel at all tired. Looking at her man, her handsome, hot man, makes her feel everything but tired.

"I don't want to go to bed," she says, slurring slightly, shaking her head.

"What do you want?" He asks, while making sure the door is locked behind them, which is sort of hard, because she's still leaning on him.

"You," she murmurs, her eyes full of a very well-known emotion to him. Lust.

They leave their jackets at the entrance, and then he walks her to the living room, feeling his blood pressure go through the roof, when he feels her fingers stroke his back. His muscles tense beneath her touch. It doesn't take much. Because he always wants her, even when he wishes he wouldn't.

But she's drunk.

"You're drunk. I don't want to use you or take advantage," he murmurs, sitting down on the couch. She follows willingly, probably content that the world has stopped spinning.

"Well, that's a problem. Because I need you."

"Erin…" He chuckles softly. He knows there is no winning this game, because he already feels a familiar rush of blood to his groin. Besides, when she gets something in her head, there is no stopping her.

"Maybe I can use you," she whispers with a teasing smile on her lips. He closes his eyes for a second, so he doesn't see at which point exactly she decides to straddle him. She loses her balance slightly, and almost ends up on the floor. It's only his fast reflexes that stop her from falling.

She giggles, which he finds cute, and completely uncharacteristic for her. She finally manages to throw one leg over his lap, and settles there. Her expression grows more serious. The hands she has been using to balance herself on his shoulders slide up to cup his face on both sides. She caresses his cheek softly with her thumb, while never breaking eye contact.

The tension between them is palpable, intense. The feelings they have for each other linger in the air. No words. Just the look they share, that seems to go on forever.

Then her lips find his with determination. Soft at first, almost tentative, as if she's still unsure he'll let her. Jay gives in to her gentle persuasion, and melts into the kiss. His tongue slips into her mouth, and she responds willingly.

It feels it always does. Like home. Intimate. Fulfilling. His arms wrap around her, locking together behind her back to keep her steady. To pull her closer.

She tastes of whiskey. He smells of beer. And they make one imperfectly perfect combination. He doesn't know why he ever had doubts about this, because kissing her could never feel wrong. Not even now.

When they finally break the kiss, it's because they are both out of breath. Panting. Craving more.

He shakes his head and chuckles. "What am I going to do with you?" His tone is almost desperate.

"I got some ideas," she grins, tugging at his shirt. He lifts his arms, allowing her to pull it off, and she does it with a force that kicks her out of balance again. She continues blaming it on the blue drink.

He steadies her, but soon gets distracted by the sight of her breasts before him. His hand slips behind her back, unclasping her bra with skill. She excitedly throws it away, claiming his mouth once more.

He flips them, so she's lying beneath him. She smiles up at him, and pulls him down on top of her. Her hands work the buckle on his belt, and she groans in frustration, when she can't get it undone. He takes mercy on her and helps. Then, he peels her jeans off, along with her underwear.

He's gone from her for too long. She misses him; the proximity, the touch of his hands on her sensitive skin, so she stretches out her arms. His eyes settle on her, lying there. Her eyes are trusting and her smile happy. He knows that nobody is using anybody. Or maybe they're using each other. It doesn't matter.

He follows her arms, until his weight is pinning her down once more. She wraps her arms and legs around him, as if she wants to prevent him from going anywhere again.

He trails kisses from her jaw, all the way down to the nape of her neck. She sighs happily into him, arching her neck back to give him better access. His mouth continues the way along the curve between her neck and her exposed shoulder. He marvels at the softness of her skin, which is slightly more flushed than usual.

Her hands don't rest either. They roam his body, stroking and caressing in all the places she knows he likes. She slips one hand behind the elastic of his boxers and grabs his ass. The strangled groan he lets out encourages her to continue.

He doesn't know how much longer he can last. The almost-carnal hunger he feels for her−the maddening need to feel her around him−is taking his breath away. He slips his hand between her legs, and she gasps at the unexpected contact. Knowing she's ready, Jay breaks the passionate embrace to remove the last piece of clothing separating them.

"Fuck, Erin," he says, groaning as he slides into her. She's so delicious around him, so tight, and so familiar. He thrusts into her, setting a pace for them. Soon, her hips start raising up, meeting his.

"God, yes. More. Please." Her words are a mixture of an urgent whisper and a silent plea.

He quickens the pace, going deeper every time. It becomes a blur. Frantic. Unrelenting. It knocks them off the couch and onto the floor.

She immediately feels empty, missing the contact; the pleasure that was building up inside her. Before he can do anything, she lowers herself on him. His hands settle on her hips, his touch almost bruising to keep her from falling, as she resumes their previous pace.

She rides, chasing the promise of her release, and it's the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. So untamed. So free. So wild.

"Erin," he murmurs, knowing he won't last. "Come for me." His words break something inside her, and he feels her clenching around him, and hears her crying out when the high from the alcohol is doubled by the high of an orgasm. Then her body collapses on top of his, shuddering. Knowing that she's climaxed, he lets go as well.

They are both spent. Erin snuggles closer, resting her head on his chest, as he waits for their breathing to normalize, before he scoops her up, and carries his already-passed-out girlfriend to the bedroom. He lays her down, and pulls a cover over her gently. With a smile, he strokes the still-flushed cheek. She's going to have a killer hangover tomorrow.

He feels pleasant tiredness setting in, so he brings a glass of water and an aspirin, setting it to the nightstand on her side. Then he turns off the lights and slides into the bed next to her.

* * *

"Morning sunshine," he teases when she finally wanders into the kitchen, carrying an empty glass of water. "You hungry?" She shakes her head, and gives him the glass, which he washes and refills.

"You've got to eat something. Have some toast, at least." Obediently, she munches on a piece of toast, while taking slow sips of water along.

"Please don't talk much." He smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, before going to the bedroom, leaving complete silence behind.

Then he spends the whole day teasing her about it.

* * *

It's 1am, and Jay doesn't know what hit him. Erin decides to have a little revenge, so she gets him drunk this time (she might have gotten herself drunk in the process as well). They're sitting on the floor of their apartment, with an almost empty bottle of Jack, playing scrabble. Not the metaphorical kind, but the actual kind.

She likes this new side of him. The completely carefree side, that chuckles at everything, including the word she just put on the board. There is a different light in his eyes, and it almost saddens her that she has to get him drunk to see it.

"That's not a word."

"Yes, it is!"

He erupts in a new fit of laughter, and she looks at him with offence.

"Fine, if you get to make up words, then so do I," he says, putting a word on the board. "Oh, look at that, triple score."

"Okay, but that is seriously not a word."

"Yes, it is. Datish. It's a word."

"Use it in a sentence," she challenges him. Her eyebrows raise when she scrambles for words, but he knows she has won. The corners of his lips turn upwards, but he supresses the smile. He thinks for a second.

"It's datish. You know, when it's a date, and you just put -ish. Datish."

"I don't think it works that way," she says, chuckling. "But okay. I'm hungry anyway."

"Me too! There is this thing Will and I always ate when we were drunk. You gotta try it!" Of course, he decides to call Will, to see if he remembers the recipe. Only the drowsiness in Will's voice reminds him it's 2 in the morning, and normal people are sleeping at this time.

But he's already woken him up, so he might as well get the recipe. So, that's how they end up, still on the floor, gorging up on food. The kitchen is a mess, but they don't have to worry about that until at least morning; and Erin has a fair amount of flour in her hair, because Jay thought it would be funny to see (it is).

After eating, they decide they should definitely be playing for something, so for the lack of a better currency, they opt for strip scrabble. They make up their own rules, which suspiciously keep changing, because Erin wants to strip Jay sooner, rather than later.

He ends up sitting there, in his boxers, while she's barely gotten rid of her shirt, and it's then that he accuses her of cheating. She laughs, shaking her head, but the scrabble board is forgotten anyway, because his lips crush violently against hers. She responds immediately, savouring the feeling of his fingers tangled in her hair.

With urgency, they manage to get up, stumbling to the bedroom. Jay never lets go of her, and as soon as they reach the bed, he starts stripping her, one piece of clothing at a time. His lips brush over the newly exposed flesh, until she's shuddering against him, burning with need.

"I still win," she murmurs with a husky voice. He throws her on the bed, completely naked, and he begs to differ. It takes his breath away−every time−how beautiful she is.

He discards the last piece of his clothing and approaches the bed. She's burning for him, her chest rising and falling with every deep breath she takes. One of her legs is slightly curved, while the other is straight. He reaches for it, joining her on the bed. He leaves a trail of sweet soft kisses up her legs, parting them, so he can focus on the inner side. He kisses and sucks and nips his way up her leg to her thigh. her everywhere, except where she needs it the most.

"Jay."

When his mouth finally touches her, his tongue is merciless. Her hips tilt up, as she meets his rhythm. He knows she is close by the sound of her moans and the urgent movements of her hips. Just as she's about to come, he stops. Moving so that he's hovering above her, he sinks into her.

Her eyes close, relishing in the fact that he finally feels close enough.

"Faster. Please. Jay." Her plea is an uncoherent string of words, but he would have understood her even without words. He knows her body better than his own. He knows the exact angle at which her spine curves, and the pressure he needs to apply to make her writhe underneath him. He knows that there is a spot on the back of her neck that makes her knees go weak.

He sets a pounding rhythm, and she quickens along with him. He watches her, as she explodes in his arms; a million pieces around him, calling out his name. The pleasure she feels is earthshattering; it's a high better than any alcohol or drug existing.

And it's that, which makes him follow her, collapsing on top of her body, with his head buried in her neck.

Gently, she brushes away the damp hair on his forehead. His skin is still flushed, and coated in a thin layer of sweat. She loves seeing him like this; when his world hasn't stopped spinning yet, and his eyes are still clouded by the passion that sets them both afire. She loves this side of him, just as any other side she's discovered so far.

"I never knew it could be like this," she murmurs against his skin. They're still pressed against each other, comforted by the feeling of their heart beats. "I had sex before. And it was good, but never like this."

"I know," he says in reply, simply, because there is nothing else to say. Because he feels the exact same way.

"With you, I don't just feel good. I feel whole."

She doesn't know, whether it's the afterglow, or the buzz from the alcohol slowly leaving her body, but she feels like she needs to tell him.

Jay knows it takes her a lot to say these things, so he cherishes the times she does. But in all reality, they don't need to say it. They both know. It's in the worried glances after a close call, and the support they pour into each other. It's in the laughter they share, and the tears they wipe from each other's cheeks. It's in the anger, and in the staying despite of it. It's in the kisses; the passionate kisses, the apologetic kisses, the morning kisses, and goodnight kisses; the loving kisses. He presses a soft one against her temple now, letting her snuggle closer, before drifting to sleep.

* * *

The next day, they both make their way into the bullpen with a pair of sunglasses on. It's too bright, too loud, too overwhelming. She can barely get the morning coffee down, and he almost falls asleep under the shower. When Platt throws a big pile of paperwork on her desk, they both flinch, moving upstairs hoping for quieter surroundings, but they only find more gloating.

Ruzek is talking loud, as usually, and of course doesn't miss the opportunity to tease when they shush him. Atwater gladly jumps in, and not even the obsessive eye-rolls and yawns make them back off.

Best of all is Hank, who chuckles at their sensitivity to sound. "Rough night?"

Baffled, Erin tries to make up an excuse. It doesn't go well, and Jay can help but snort at her attempt to save her reputation. She shoots him a mean look, the one she perfected soon after meeting him. Luckily, Voight seems to be in a good mood, so he just chuckles. "Just get it together," he mutters jokingly, before walking back to his office.

He doesn't miss the happiness that manages to shine through their hangover. He decides that if Erin shows up for work, hungover, but still looking that happy, then that's something he's willing to live with.


	8. Support

**A/N: WOW. I. Did. Not. Expect. That. Guys the feedback has been unbelievable, I'm really glad to hear you're enjoying this story. I just wanna do a shout out to the people who are already reading this story on tumblr and left a second review here (you're amazing). Also thanks to every single soul who ever left a review (you're amazing too).There is no words to describe the feeling of opening up my e-mail to see a new review. Thank you. I'm humbled and honored.  
**

 **If you follow me on tumblr, you know I said I will definitely finish this story. All 50 parts of it. I just wasn't sure whether to continue posting it here, because I wasn't sure if anyone was reading, and uploading and publishing does take a small amount of time out of my very busy day (I'm a master student bear with me).** **I'm sorry if I came across as begging for reviews. I write because I enjoy it. It's just that most of my readers are on tumblr, and since I just recently started uploading my stories on here I wasn't sure, especially because I got feedback for the first five chapters, then none for a while.**

 **As for the length of these, I'm sorry if you can't enjoy the shorter ones. But I decided when I sat down to write these, I will not force myself to extend it to make it longer. I write until it feels done, whether that's 600 words or 2,500. I hadn't gotten any complaints until now, so I hope you won't hold it against me that not all chapters will be long.**

 **If you've read all that, thank you for bearing with me. Now without further ado, let's move onto the next prompt.**

* * *

 ** _Prompt #6: Support - It was when she showed up that night, after they took his gun and badge away, that he realized what having her support meant to him.  
_**

Word count: _790_

* * *

She's nervous. She's standing in front of the door of his apartment, her palms sweaty like she's a teenage girl. He doesn't know she's coming, because there was a nice neighbour downstairs that let her in, before she could ring up. The neighbour probably recognized her from one of her past visits. There haven't been that many. Not enough, she feels.

She swallows the nerves and the anxiety as she reaches forward to knock firmly on the door. She knows he's home, because of the light she saw in his window, but what she's not so sure of, is whether he'll let her in, or not.

The door swings open, and his eyes widen for a split second. He's surprised.

She holds up the six-pack in her hands as a form of an apology, even though she's not sure what she's apologizing for. She was just trying to be there for him. Without words, he steps away from the door, motioning her inside.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs softly, once they're inside, and she's gotten rid of her jacket. Her eyes shine with something ridiculously close to tears, and she stubbornly pushes the thought away. She doesn't want to cry. She's here as a comfort for him, not to be comforted by him.

"Don't. You have nothing to apologize for." He takes two beers from the fridge, opening them, and puts the six-pack inside. She plays with the bottle he passes her, not taking a sip.

"I just wish you'd have told me what was going on." She chooses her words carefully, still remembering the reaction he had to her previous comment about the union rep, but the whole thing has been a shock to her. She had no idea he was in so deep.

"I didn't want you involved. In case something like this happened." He pauses, and she sees the doubt in his eyes. It kills her, to have her partner doubting her trust in him.

"I didn't…"

"I know." She jumps in, cutting him off immediately. She knows what he was going to say, and she needs him to know that he doesn't need to say it. Her word is almost violent in her need to convince him that she believes him. That she never thought him capable of such a thing. "I know you didn't." She only needed to look into his eyes to know that. No words. Like always.

"I just need you to know that it wouldn't have mattered to me if you did."

It's a silent promise, the one he has to read from between the lines to get. But it's the most anyone has ever given him. It says she'll have his back, no matter what.

"I've killed before," he whispers. His voice is strangled, like it hurts him to speak. She knows, of course. She knows the bits and pieces of what he's been through in Afghanistan. She can't even begin to understand and it makes her feel helpless. Her hand reaches for him, stroking his back in soothing motions, in hopes of providing some sort of comfort.

"I know," she murmurs again. "It's okay."

"Since I got back, I buried myself in work. I didn't want it to define me. What I did back there. So I let my badge define me instead. It's who I am. It's who I want to be."

"And nobody will take that away," she promises. "It's just temporary, Jay. Until we solve the case."

"If I lose it, I have nothing left."

She nods. It's something she can very well understand. "You won't." Her voice is soft, but there is something firm in it as well. Something that doesn't leave room for argument, and he finally understands that she's in this fight with him. He nods, taking a sip of his beer.

"Just tell me what I can do," she pleads, desperate to give him anything and everything he needs. She has never seen her partner so broken.

He shakes him head. "Nothing you haven't already done." He stands up, pressing a kiss to her temple. "It means a lot−you being here, believing in me." His words are like caresses against her skin, and she can feel his warm breath tickling her. It makes her wish that one day would come already.

"Always." He leans back, trying to get a grasp of the concept of the word. She knows the moment of sharing is over, and she lets him regain control of his emotions by slipping into the bathroom. He let her a little further in, and she's grateful for every time that happens. Maybe, if she's lucky, one day, he's let her all the way in.

But until then, she's happy for every inch.


	9. Worry

**A/N: Thank you for all the feedback, as always, I'm so thankful for every word of assurance! This is set after the crossover episode where Erin gets run over by a bike and is taken to the hospital.**

 **Hope you enjoy it!**

 ** _Prompt #8: Worry - He left no room for arguments, as he pressed an ice pack against her head._**

Word count: _1,263_

* * *

" _Halstead's with her."_

When Erin comes to, she is disoriented and confused. Her eyes flutter open, slowly adjusting to the bright light of the hospital room. It never made sense to her, why the patients would need a light so bright anyway. Only a second after her eyes open, Jay comes into her view.

"Hey there, partner. You scared the hell out of me," he murmurs softly, and she tries to smile, to reassure him, but her head is all fuzzy. She feels his hand covering hers, and she immediately feels better. His warmth fills her, and she finds enough strength to talk.

"The bike…"

"Ran directly into you. Got a really bad bump on the head, so the doctors kept you for observation. You have a concussion," he explains, seeing the confusion in her eyes.

"Ouch."

"Voight is sending you home."

"No. I want to stay, I'm fine," she complains and starts to sit up.

"Like hell you are," he argues and pushes her back onto the pillows. She's almost as pale as the white hospital sheets. He decides she's not leaving his side for quite some time. Not if he can help it.

Her eyes close, as if that was all the fight she had in her. "Will you stay?" She murmurs with a sleep-laced voice. His heart jumps a little at the words coming out of his partner's mouth.

"Nothing can make me leave," he promises. And nothing can. It worries him, seeing her like this, powerless. He lets her rest, hoping that the next time she wakes up, she will feel a little more like herself. In the meantime, he's free to replay the memory of his partner crumbling down in his arms over and over again.

He's not ashamed to admit that his heart almost stopped, when she moved her hand away, and all he saw was blood. Then she was down, and he was down with her, praying to every god he ever heard of that she's okay.

* * *

She steps into her hotel room slowly. She's still not at her best, but the dizziness has subsided, replaced by a killer headache.

"I'm fine," she assures her partner, who follows her into the room. The only reason the doctor even let her leave the hospital, was because Jay promised he would look over her. She's grateful for that, and she says as much. She hates hospitals.

"I'm not leaving, so you might as well let me take care of you."

She rolls her eyes, but it hurts, so she decides to leave sarcasm for some other time. She lets him get her into bed, his hands soft on her arms. If this was under different circumstances, she would potentially be enjoying this. But her head is heavy, and her mind is burdened by the worries for her brother. It takes everything not to crumble under the blame she feels. The blame she put on herself.

He passes her a glass of water, which she takes a sip from, before setting it on the nightstand. Then she looks at him. Really looks at him, for the first time since she woke up. His face is tired, and he has dark circles under his eyes. It only adds to the terrible feeling that's pressing on her chest.

"You barely slept," she says, vocalising some of her thoughts. She knows he did sleep a little, because that's how she found him when she woke up. She doesn't know what he had to say to the doctor, in order to let him stay, but when she woke up, he was there. His head was resting next to her hand, and he seemed to be sleeping.

"I'm fine. It's you I'm worried about." He presses an icepack against her head, leaving no room for arguments. She let the cold soothe her headache, as she reaches out and touches his face. She traces the frown line, softening them along the way.

"I'll let you fuss," she murmurs. "But you have to sleep," she continues, while tapping the empty space next to her on the bed. She knows he's not leaving her side, just like he promised the doctor he wouldn't, but concussion or not, she won't be responsible for her partner collapsing of exhaustion.

He nods, silently accepting the deal she's offering.

"Go get changed," she tells him, taking a hold of the icepack he's holding. "I'm not going anywhere."

She feels him slide into her bed five minutes later. He's careful to keep his distance, but she moves the cover so it's over both of them. She wriggles closer, craving the comforting contact of his body. He caves, and pulls her body against his, where she fits like she never would have imagined. It's the closest she's ever been to him. Even in her wildest dreams it never felt so good.

Her sigh of content makes him chuckle softly. They don't need much time before drifting to sleep; both worried more about the well-being of the other than their own.

* * *

"I don't want to go," she complains for the hundredth time. Her head feels better, and sending her home seems like a waste.

"Tough luck, kiddo." That's Voight of course. "I'll come check on you when I get home. Let me know when your flight lands."

"I won't." It's the only rebellion she's got left, even if it makes her feel like a five-year-old.

She feels him pull her on the side, away from the prying eyes of their boss. She knows it's him, without even looking up, because the gentleness and the familiarity of the move speak more than a visual.

When she woke up in the morning, he was already gone, but she notices he got some sleep nevertheless. His face looks more relaxed, and probably so does hers. It pains her to admit, that it was the best night's sleep she has gotten in a long while.

"Please, don't make this harder than it already is," he murmurs. "We'll get this guy, I promise." He knows how invested she is, and how personal this case is for her. But staying here would mean Voight and he would just worry about her all the time, instead of working the case, and there is too much at stake for that to happen.

Her eyes look up, and she sees it. How worried he is for her safety. How torn he is, between staying here and boarding the plane with her to make sure she gets home alright. She shakes her head in an almost unnoticeable nod.

"Keep me in the loop?" It's her way of letting him know she's giving in.

"24/7. I promise." She knows his promises. He keeps them. Always. She nods again, this time with more peace of mind than before.

She's about to turn around and head to boarding, when he captures her arm and pulls her into a hug. It flusters her, but she recovers fast, wrapping her arms around him as well. She's about to tell him that she's fine, for the millionth time, but she realizes, from the way his arms desperately clutch her, that this hug is not for her benefit. It's for his.

They pull back at the same time, somewhere around the time they realize Voight is probably watching.

"Thanks for last night. And for everything."

"That's why you have backup."

She's not sure backup covers everything he does for her, but she nods. The warmth of his embrace stays with her long after the plane has already taken off.


	10. Surveillance Van

**A/N: Thanks to all the people who take the time to review and favourite! I love you, you guys are the best. I have been posting so much smut lately, but it's not on purpose, pure coincidence there.**

 **I hope you don't mind!**

* * *

 ** _Prompt #9: Surveillance van. She always considered surveillance boring. Until he joined the unit._**

Word count: _1,546_

* * *

"Nothing is happening," she whines after hour four of their surveillance. They've already gone through most of the snacks, and they're not even half-way through the night. He suppresses a chuckle, earning a glare from Erin.

"It's night, people sleep at night. What did Voight think was gonna happen at night?" She is in a foul mood. Surveillance is tedious on its own, but surveillance at night, when nothing is happening, feels like a special part of hell.

"Actually, I'm pretty sure this is some sort of punishment for me," he replies, apologizing. She smirks. She knew it.

"Fine, then you be punished! But why me?"

"Maybe it'll pick up," says with hope and shrugs.

She scoffs in reply, fuming. Unlikely. But it does.

Minutes later the screen picture changes, and Natalie Stevens−the woman they're watching−gets a text, and then a visit.

"Well, that's not her husband." She remarks, and Jay laughs, but he has to admit she is right. The tall man who just walked into the bedroom is, without a doubt, not Natalie's husband. They put his face through the face recognition software and they listen with care, but the two lovebirds skip most of the talking, and get right to action.

"Oh, just great. Lovely," she mutters under her breath. She's sure she can see a slight blush on his cheeks, and for some reason she finds that attractive. He even looks away from the camera for a moment.

"She's not even into it. And his seduction technique could use some improvement. The guy has never heard of foreplay." He doesn't answer that. He's not sure his voice would work, even if he knew what to say.

"I'll bet you drinks at Molly's that she fakes it." She might as well get something out of this situation.

"Why would she fake it?"

"Uh, because he's not even trying?"

"Have you faked one?" That earns him a pause after which she replies with honesty.

"A few."

There is a brief moment, when all they hear is the sound of lovemaking, and he decides that talking about sex with his partner, is still less weird than watching _that_ in silence. She smirks when he opens his mouth.

"I bet you wouldn't have to fake it with me." He intends that sentence to sound teasing, but it comes out wrong. So wrong. Maybe he's mistaken, but he thinks her voice is lower when she replies. Huskier.

"Would you be better than he is?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

She swallows hard, her fingers finding a way to the back of her neck. It's just because it's a small space, she tells herself, and because he's too close, and they're talking about sex, and she hasn't had any in too damn long, but in that moment, Erin would very much like to know.

She takes her lower lip between her teeth to stop her thoughts from going into the direction they're going, but it's too late. She can imagine his strong arms on her all too well. And despite her earlier comment, she doesn't believe he's ever left a woman unsatisfied.

There is a beep on the scanner, and she's grateful for the interruption.

"Anything yet?"

They both jump a little at hearing Voight. She fills him in, and tries to ignore all the signs of arousal her body is sending her. It's going to be a long night, until she can go home and finally take a cold shower.

"Well she faked it, so drinks are on you," she teases when the noises stop. Now all she has to do is get the image of Jay out of her head.

* * *

"Here we are," he teases. "Back at it again."

"Good ol' surveillance," she yawns. "At night. Again. What did you do this time?"

"Maybe we'll get some action again," he says, cocking his eyebrow at her and promptly ignoring her question. A blush spreads across her cheeks. How did that happen? When did they switch roles, and she turned into a blushing idiot?

"Same bet?" She asks to recover.

"You're on."

A moment passes and she can see there is something bothering him, so she rolls her eyes, but asks anyway. "What?"

"Did you ever fake it?"

At first, she's not sure what exactly he's asking her, but then she sees the slightly unsure look in his eyes, masked with a cocky smile. It's hard to believe he even has to ask.

"What do you think?" He shrugs non-committedly, and she can't help but smile.

"I never had to." For a second they forget where they are, and there is only the two of them, while their eyes meet in a flash of sparks. His hand moves, brushing over hers casually, like it wasn't even intended, but he knows it was. They both do.

They get interrupted by the development on the surveillance camera. Coincidentally, Jay was right about the action. It's going to be another interesting night.

Erin still remembers that night in the van: the tension, the sparks, and the heat that spread over her body. She remembers how hard it was to breathe and swallow, and how long it took her to get the image of his body on top of hers out of her head. She remembers slipping her fingers between her legs that night after she got home, thinking of him.

But this is even worse. Because she knows now. She knows with perfect clarity how his body feels on hers, how skilled his tongue is, and how good he can make her feel. And the 'good' is so good, it dries her mouth in an instant. He looks at her, and she wonders if he can feel how much she wants him.

Of course, he can. He always can.

The woman on the video starts whimpering and begging for something, and Erin knows the feeling. Before she realizes it, Jay is next to her, his eyes piercing hers.

"Change of bet." She looks at him, wondering what bet he's referring to, because her mind is starting to get hazy, and she can't think straight. Then it dawns on her.

"I bet I can make you come before he makes her."

She breathes in sharply. If he keeps saying things to her in that deep voice, he won't even have to do anything, because she's already halfway there. She's about to say something about the professionalism, but he slides her a little forward, and her strong will evaporates.

"Don't forget to keep your eyes on the monitor," he orders, and she shoots him a look, but lets him slide his hands under her sweater, caressing the warm skin underneath. She's dressed in comfortable clothes, since she knew she'd have to spend the night in the van.

She shivers when Jay's slightly cold hands touch her skin. He leaves a trace of gentle kisses from the line of her jaw down to her neck. His teeth scrape the point where her pulse is, while his hand slips between her legs, rubbing her over the fabric.

She could stop him. She knows he would stop if she told him to, but her skin is already tingling with anticipation. She turns her gaze to the screen, seeing that nothing has changed, and allows herself to let out a suppressed moan.

He smirks at that, pressing harder against the fabric with his fingers. He knows he has her right where he wants her.

Her hips raise up to meet his hand, and he's aware he is not going to win the bet this way. He pulls at her leggings until they are low enough for him to slip his hand under. She moans at the touch.

His skilled fingers find her and start stroking. It's slow at first, then faster with every second that goes by. She pants against him with an aching need.

"Come for me, babe," he coaxes her. His voice is gentle−the complete opposite to his uncompromising fingers bringing her closer with every movement.

He captures her lips in a kiss, and it stifles the sob she lets out when she comes undone in his arms. She surrenders to him with reckless abandon, and he can't believe he ever doubted that her pleasure was genuine. You can't fake that.

He thinks of the time he asked her if she ever faked an orgasm, and she replied with "a few". Now, he feels sorry for the men who didn't know to bring her to this. Who didn't know how to touch her marvellous body, and instead only focused on their own pleasure. They never got to see the look in her eyes when she climaxes, or the strangled sound she makes when she's close.

His eyes flicker to the screen.

"I win," he murmurs, after seeing they still haven't finished, and she smiles. She feels so high, she doesn't even care that she's feeding his ego.

He loves the lazy smile that finds its way onto her face, and the dreamy look she gets right after. He loves that he's the only one who gets to see her like this.

"I think I win," she replies. And she did.

She won him.

And the best part is: that was just the foreplay.


	11. Scrabble

**A/N: Sorry for the late update. I hope you enjoy this!**

 ** _Prompt #10: Scrabble - She yawned and then smirked. "Who knew Scrabble could be so tiring?"  
_**

Word count: 927

* * *

"No come on," she mutters at the top of her lungs. The light bulb stubbornly stays dark, despite her continuous flicking of the switch. The usual hum of the refrigerator is not to be heard either, which makes her realize the power must be out.

It's one of those days, when everything is conspiring against her. The storm outside came out of nowhere, and of course she didn't take an umbrella, so she's drenched. It's not even 7 yet, so she doesn't imagine what she's going to do for the rest of the night without power.

She's awaken from her depressive state by the sound of a text.

 **J: Power put at your place too?**

 **E: Yes. :(**

 **J: How about some Chinese and a meaningful conversation? Like old days?**

 **E: Meaningful? Who are you bringing over?**

 **J: Ha-ha. Don't make fun of the one bringing you hot food.**

 **E: *silent emoji***

Only a couple of minutes later, there is a knock on the door, which makes her think he was already on his way when he texted her. She swings the door open to the delicious smell of fresh noodles. Her smile is only partly dedicated to the food in his hands. The other part is reserved for her partner, who always knows how to make her day better. She motions him inside, taking some of the food out of his hands. He brought enough for an army, which goes to show how well he knows her.

"So romantic," he comments at all the candles. "You coming on to me or something?"

"You wish," she says, chuckling.

She does admit the atmosphere is slightly intimate. The sound of the storm outside and the flicker of candles don't leave her completely unaffected. Especially because the candlelight makes his eyes sparkle, and the streetlights coming in through the window make the room feel almost surreal. It reminds her of the time they had drinks after they were going to go to her reunion. The feelings she had then are still there, even stronger.

"How about Scrabble?" He asks after the food. She looks at him, laughing at the insinuation. "Unless you're tired and want me out of your hair."

She remembers he told her once that blackouts are hard for him, because they remind him of the time in the military. They almost always cause nightmares for him. It was the same time she told him she hates blackouts, because they remind her of when she was little and Bunny forgot to pay the bills, so they cut off the electricity. And she was six years old, home alone in the dark.

Her gratitude for having him by her side grows.

She goes to get the box, while he opens beers for both of them.

"You are going down, my friend," she says, rubbing her hands together after having set up the board.

"Game on."

It's a couple of beers and quite some time later, when she yawns and smirks.

"Who knew Scrabble could be so tiring?" She asks no one in particular, but they both know she's not tired from playing Scrabble. It's a mentally draining job they choose to do every day.

That's when he remembers he should probably get going. She glances at the clock showing 2 am, and at the storm still not bowing down outside.

"Stay," she offers. It's the weather, she tells herself, that leaves her with unease. And the fact he's had a couple of beers. It's not the fact that she can see the sadness in his eyes, even in the poor lightning of burnt-out candles. It's not the fact that maybe she doesn't want him to be alone; and doesn't want to be alone.

"I'll get you a pillow and a blanket," she settles the matter. He nods, his face suddenly somber. He takes her by surprise when he pulls her against him, when she returns with the pillow.

He doesn't say thank you, but his hug says it for him, so she leans in, returning the sentiment. Hugging Jay is one of her favorite things, because of the way his arms wrap around her, making her feel safe. It's never awkward. Not after all this time. The familiar fragrance of his envelops her, and she hold on for a little while longer.

Then she lets go, and they both go to sleep, knowing that at least for one night, they're a little less alone.

* * *

"Morning sleepy head," she murmurs, touching his arm carefully. She has learned long ago that waking him up all of the sudden can get dangerous, so she makes sure to respect his boundaries.

But she forgets all about being just friends when his eyes open to see her, and he looks so beautiful her heart breaks. Then he smiles.

"Morning," he mumbles with sleep-laced voice. Then he pulls her on the couch, and under the blanket.

"Jay!"

"Five minutes." She doesn't have to point out how weird this is, because he's always up before her, and never the one to sleep in. But he's holding her snug against him, and it's warm and cozy under the cover, so she lets herself close her eyes for one more minute, imagining a perfect world where she wouldn't have to pretend there is anything friendly about the way his arm is wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him.

So for one minute, they're not co-workers, or partners, or friends. They're just two souls, in love, waiting for the stars to finally align in their favour.


	12. Platt's Front Desk

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who takes the time to review! I love you guys :)**

* * *

 **Prompt #11: Platt's front desk. - Nothing ever made it past Platt's desk. Not even their walk of shame.**

Word count: 1001

* * *

"Well don't you two think you're smooth," Platt murmurs as she sees Jay and Erin walk into the station, exchanging knowing glances. They're walking too close, smiling too much, looking at each other for too long to be just friends. As someone who has known Erin since she was a moody teenager, Platt knows that she has never seen the detective as happy as she seems to be lately. Since she came back to intelligence.

Something tells the sergeant it's not being back on the job that makes Erin show her dimples quite so often, and she puts two and two together faster than anyone else. She is a detective with a sharp set of observing skills, and her position allows her to watch them closely every day.

And nothing ever escapes Trudy Platt, not even the fact that Erin is wearing the same clothes she was yesterday, or that detective Chuckles is especially chuckly this morning.

"Hey, you two!"

They stop in their step, a look of guilt washing over both of their faces. His even more, because he can't lie to save his own life, especially not in a pressing situation like this one. The Sergeant tries to keep a straight face at how scared they both look.

"Tone it down a notch, if you don't want everyone to notice," she says in a hushed voice, and watches their eyes panic.

"Hey, your walk of shame stays between us. I got you covered."

Jay looks at her with wonder, and Erin gives her a sidelook, but nods.

"Thanks, Sergeant."

"Good for you, Lindsay," she adds before returning to her duties.

They do tone down their smiles before going upstairs, and Erin does change her shirt in the locker room, but somehow, he still manages to kiss her until her lips are red and swollen and her breathing is shallow.

Then they need fifteen more minutes, before he can go upstairs.

All worth it.

* * *

"Hey, Detective. Nice work on that."

Erin looks at her, questioning what she means. Then the sergeant nods towards Jay walking up the stairs. He sends her a heated look before turning around and heading up.

"Thanks," she murmurs, suddenly recalling their not-so-PG-13-rated morning activities. She watches his butt move as he walks up, getting momentarily distracted because his shirt sneaks up his waist, and for a second she can see a bit of his skin.

She's pretty sure she sees the older woman wink at her before heading up herself, and the smile stays on her face for the good part of that day.

* * *

They haven't been together for a couple of weeks now, trying their best to stay away from each other. It's hard, because the feelings they so desperately try to hide are still there, no matter how much they don't want them to be.

Not even that goes past Platt, who figures out pretty soon why the detectives no longer smile at each other passing her desk, but instead gaze at each other with a sort of sadness and suppressed longing.

"You're too hard on them," she mentions to Hank one day and he huffs in reply. "They could've made it work." She has an eye for these sort of things, and she recognizes true love when she sees it.

"It's better to cut it off, before they get too attached."

"Maybe. But I haven't seen her happy in a while."

He has to admit she has a point, but decides that what's done is done. If they were willing to break it off, because he found out about it, then surely it was just the sneaking around that was the appeal of it.

"And he looks at her, like you used to look at Camille," she adds, the words seeming innocent enough, but she's right to assume they don't leave his mind for a long time.

* * *

"Hey, Chuckles," she calls after him with the affectionate nickname. The fact that he doesn't correct her as usually shows how distracted he is. The nickname doesn't even seem appropriate anymore, because he hasn't chuckled in a while. Not since the absence of a very stubborn detective from upstairs.

"I tried talking to her. She's as stubborn as a mule."

He nods. "Thanks for trying. I'm just worried about her. She looks worse every day, and she's not letting anyone in."

"You didn't hear this from me, but who cares what Voight thinks. She needs backup. She needs you," she offers as a sort of advice. The truth is, she has seen Erin digging a hole, and she thinks he might be the only one who can pull her out of it.

And in the interest of helping a person they both obviously care about, she's ready to break her rule and meddle for once.

Jay stares for a second, once again amazed how nothing ever gets past Trudy Platt, and then nods.

"Thanks, sergeant."

That's the day he decides to give it one more try, and finds her at the club. And even though it doesn't go his way, and even though it breaks his heart, it was worth a try.

* * *

"So, you got dad's permission, huh?"

She can't help but chuckle at the stupid grin spreading over his face. It melts away her hard mask, and softens her up just a notch. She was there when Voight told him that he doesn't care about the status of their relationship. She there a couple of days later, when the two of them came into the precinct, and casually disentangled their fingers. She was there when her famous dimples and his famous chuckle made their return.

"Just don't screw it up," she says. "And no more making out in the locker room!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, sergeant," he adds cheekily, recalling a rather vivid memory of Erin pressed against his locker, with her legs wrapped around his waist. "We would never."

They would.

They did.

They will.


	13. Dinner At Voight's

**A/N: I am so beyond sorry for the late update. I've sort of been all over the place. It's not even an excuse cause I'm like 5 pieces ahead on tumblr, so ya'll are getting a double-no a triple update here. Just so you don't miss any (I think ff sometimes only sends out an e-mail for one update in 24 hours even if there are more so be sure you don't miss any!).  
**

 **Thank you so much for all the love. I feel it. My muse feels it. I give it all back with this.**

* * *

 **Prompt #12: Dinner at Voight's. - When your boss was also your girlfriends foster father that was bound to make family dinners a bit awkward. Right?**

 _Word count: 2,588  
_

* * *

"Voight invited us over for dinner," she casually mentions and watches him choke on his bagel. His eyes have a look she often sees on perps when they know they're going to jail. It amazes her every time, how this brave, brave man she loves so much, is so afraid of Hank Voight it makes the color disappear from his face at the mention of his name. She chuckles lightly to reassure him.

He didn't actually put it that way. He gruffly invited her over for dinner, and added she should bring her boyfriend, so he can grill him a little. But she thinks that detail is best left out. Especially in the interest of Jay not chickening out. There are some secrets better not told. Ever. Besides she doesn't think he meant it. Not really.

"You gotta give me so warning next time," he says when his breathing finally calms down. "Is he planning on murdering me and burying me in his backyard?"

"You're such a drama queen," she says, chuckling and kisses the top of his head. "You'll be fine."

At least that's what she hopes.

* * *

The beginning is promising. Jay got Voight's favorite brand of bourbon out of Erin, and the silent exchange of the bottle goes well, as Voight nods appreciatively at Jay (who is a nervous wreck). Voight can tell, of course, and enjoys the fear he has managed to inflict in the younger detective through his years in the unit.

He motions them inside, explaining that dinner isn't ready yet, but it shouldn't be long. Since he's grilling steaks, he goes back to the yard so they won't burn, and leaves the two in the kitchen for a minute.

Erin brings him a beer from the fridge, and he marvels at how at home she is. It still surprises him that this is the house she had spent the better part of her life in.

Erin sets the table, taking out the better plates just like Camille always used to do when they had guests over. She always said that the food ware, even the fancy sets, shouldn't be sitting in cupboards collecting dust.

That, and asking Hank if he needs help with the steaks, earns her a chuckle and a comment about how much things have changed since the first time she came to this house. Jay of course, is eager to hear any stories he can use against her in the future, and the two men laugh at Erin when Voight explains that when she first came to live with them she wasn't used to house chores. And how Camille quickly put an end to it.

She smiles with melancholy, setting the table, and naturally, he wants to know why.

"Sometimes, when I'm in this house, it feels like she's still here."

"It's the same with our house and my mom. It's the only reason I still go there sometimes." It surely isn't to have fights with his grumpy dad, that's for sure. But if he closes his eyes, he can still feel her there. Can almost hear her laugh, and her bossing dad around.

"Steaks are done." They both jump a little, and he chuckles. "Scared you?"

"Didn't hear you come in," she murmurs, and sets down the potatoes next to the steaks, and the vegetable platter in the middle.

Surprisingly enough, Hank decides not to make it any more awkward as it already is, and avoids the subjects like family (since he heard Jay's comment from earlier). They avoid talking shop too much, but he does tell some of the funnier stories from his early police days.

Jay's initial nervousness gets slightly better when he feels her assuring hand on his knee. She squeezes gently to let him know she's there, and he eyes her gratefully. But when she tries to hold his hand at the end of dinner, he almost has a panic attack. Voight can witness a whole three minutes of bickering, because Erin thinks he's overreacting, because he's her boyfriend and she'll hold his damn hand if she wants to.

"I'm the one who's supposed to panic about PDA, remember?"

"I'm not even going to go there," he mutters, because it's true. But Hank chuckles loudly at their bickering, and Jay relaxes a little, and lets her slip her fingers into his when they're done eating.

She puts down her napkin, and suddenly stands. "Sorry, I have to go use the restroom."

Both of them stand too, and she rolls her eyes. "And they say chivalry is dead."

She leans down to Hank before she leaves. "Please don't scare him away. I really like him," she whispers and leaves the room, but not before winking at Jay. After she's gone, Hank eyes the young detective seriously, and he almost chokes on beer.

"Is this the part where you ask me what your intentions are with your daughter?" Jay asks, partly because the way he's looking at him is intimidating, and also, he has imagined this moment for the past couple of days (or months really, since he and Erin got back together).

He's also thought about all the different replies he would give, but nothing, absolutely nothing prepared him for Hank throwing his head back and laughing in the possibly most carefree way he's ever heard him.

"You wouldn't be here if she didn't think you're worth her time. It's not like she's ever brought a guy over for dinner before." The last sentence is meant casually, accompanied by Voight pouring some of the bourbon into two glasses and passing him one, but Jay's world stops a little afterwards.

"Never?"

He shakes his head. And he has told her to in the past, but she always found some excuse not to. "Must be pretty special."

* * *

When Erin gets back she prepares herself for a disaster, but instead, she finds her dad and her boyfriend on the couch, looking at something that awfully resembles the family album.

"She's not one for the holidays, this one. We had to practically force her to do all the Christmas stuff."

"But she looks like she's enjoying herself so much," Jay chuckles with irony at the picture of teenage Erin brooding, because somebody made her wear a Santa hat. He has already realized that Erin is not big on any holiday, and he suspects it stems from the fact that for the first fifteen or sixteen years of her life, they likely weren't much to look forward to.

"You're not supposed to go around showing that to people," she mutters, but sits down on the arm rest, and leans on Jay's shoulder in order to see the picture he's currently laughing at. She snorts with affection.

They don't even realize how natural it looks—her peering over his shoulder, her hair slightly brushing against his cheek. Her lips carry a smile, the one Camille always said could illuminate the world sometimes, if she smiled long enough. Something tells Hank that this man just might make her smile long enough for it to happen.

"What else are pictures for? Other than embarrassing you?" She ignores that comment in its entirety.

"What a bitch face," she comments at another Christmas picture of her and Justin.

"You still have it sometimes," Jay comments and she hits him.

"Shut up!"

"No, you shut up. I know what I'm talking about." How could he not, when he's the #1 target of her bitch face, right after all the perps they arrest.

And that's when Hank thinks maybe his girl has found her match. Someone who loves her enough to do anything for her, but on the other hand won't let her win every argument. He decides this dinner was a brilliant idea.

"You're lucky I like you," she says, finishing the argument, and he smiles up at her, enjoying the familiar sound of her laughter in his ears. Because if he gets to see her like this—happy, relaxed and smiling—he'll sit through every dinner with Voight.

At the end of the day, he has to admit it hasn't been as horrible as he imagined.

* * *

When Voight has to take a phone call, Erin takes the opportunity to show Jay her old room. They climb the stairs together, and she opens the door letting him enter.

There are still things there, things that she didn't feel right taking with her, because it's where they belong. Like the band posters she stuck on the walls when she was sixteen, or some of the photos and trinkets from family trips.

He smiles, because even though it's the room teenage Erin lived it, it's so _her._ He takes a moment to check out some of the photos. Some are familiar, like Erin with all the Voight's on the day she graduated the Academy, or Erin with her detective badge.

"I'm not that vain," she murmurs, when she notices him looking at the picture. She wouldn't put a picture of herself on the wall. He knows her enough to know that. "It was a gift from Justin."

"It's a really nice photo."

There is also a picture he's never seen before. He looks at her with a question in his eyes, and she answers, because that's just the way they communicate without words.

"It's the first photo we took together as a family." Her voice shakes a little when she pronounces the word _family,_ and he understands with perfect clarity what these people did for her. They took in a girl, not necessarily afraid, but alone against the world, and they gave her a family that did justice to the word. They gave her a family she can be proud of, and say it with tears in her eyes when she remembers the good times they spent together.

"That's Hank and me, the first time he took me to the range," she continues after moving to her left. She will never forget the feeling of holding a gun for the first time. Even though she did some pretty illegal things back in her days, she's never held one before, and it was the moment she felt the most powerful. It was the moment she decided she wanted to become a cop. "And that's my favorite one." The emotions in her voice threaten to strangle her voice, so she swallows, and enjoys the support her offers by wrapping an arm around her waist. "Justin took it. It's when I told Hank and Camille I wanted to become a police officer.

That's when Hank already knew Justin didn't want anything to do with the Academy, and I thought he would want to talk me out of it. But he just looked at me and said I was going to be one hell of a cop."

"He was right."

"You know, I've never had a boy in here," she admits. "Feels kind of wrong."

"So wrong it's right?" She smiles, taking a step closer.

"Erin," he warns, when she presses her lips against his neck. Damn that woman. Can't she see he's trying to make a good impression? Somehow, he doesn't think ravaging her on her old bed is going to do it.

But her lips find _that spot_ , and she knows he's lost, when his lips crash against hers in a wild battle for dominance. Their tongues melt together, and she moans quietly when he pulls her closer against him.

"Hey, Erin! I said no funny business in my house!" Voight's voice penetrates their ears from downstairs. They both jump slightly at his words, and she chuckles at how startled he looks. She rolls her eyes and grabs him by the t-shirt, wiping the remains of her lipstick from his neck, before heading downstairs.

"I thought we agreed about the rule about no boys in your room," Voight starts when they reach the landing, and she rolls her eyes again, this time at him. It's not like it was necessary. She never brought a guy into this house, until now.

"I was just showing Jay my poster collection."

"Poster collection my ass." But they all laugh, and Jay visibly relaxes. Maybe he won't end up buried in the backyard after all.

"We should get going. I'm just going to grab out stuff."

Hank nods. He was going to have a couple of words with Halstead anyway, and that gives him a perfect opportunity.

"You know I never thought I'd say this, but you're good for her. And as long as you make her happy, we're good." Because despite all his doubts, he sees how much Jay cares for Erin, and how he looks at her, and wants her to smile and feel comfortable.

Jay nods in agreement. "We're on the same page, sergeant."

"Outside of work, you can call me Hank."

It feels like the compliment of the highest order, and Jay just nods gratefully, afraid of saying anything that will mess this moment up.

Erin returns before they can say anything else, but the silent nod he gets from Voight means they have an understanding. And despite the fear Jay has of the man, they do have one thing in common. The woman currently passing him his jacket is their whole world, and there is nothing they wouldn't do to ensure her safety and her happiness.

* * *

He lets her lean into him and wrap an arm around his waist as they walk towards the car. She sneaks her hand underneath his jacket, and further under his shirt, until her cold hand finds his warm skin. But despite the chill of the night, he knows that this time she's not looking for body heat. It's a search for intimacy. So, he puts his own arm around her, and she replies by resting her head on his shoulder.

"Thank you," he murmurs against her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"You okay?"

"Never been better," he confirms, and she knows, from the way he's smiling at her, that Hank told him he's the first guy she brought home. She's glad. He deserves to feel special, because he is.

He traps her between the car and him, and presses a gentle kiss against her lips.

"Let's go home."

She nods. Even though home technically still means different things for them, she knows what he means. Whether they go back to his or her apartment, it's home as long as they're together, because home for her is already the pair of his blue eyes and his heartbeat to lull her to sleep.

* * *

Without their knowledge, Hank stares after them as they go towards his car. He sees her sneak her hand underneath his jacket, and he wonders if she knows where she picked that up. Because he has vivid memories of Camille doing the same thing countless times, every time they went anywhere. If he closes his eyes, he can still feel her hand there.

He remembers Trudy telling him that Jay looks at Erin like he used to look at Camille, and if he didn't before, he saw it tonight. That same love and devotion reflects on Halstead's face every time Erin says something or smiles, his eyes ready to catch her happiness like it's the only sustenance he ever needs.

And that's why Hank knows that this might have been a first dinner they shared as a family, but it won't be the last.

There will be many more.

A lifetime's worth.


	14. The 300

**A/N: Thanks for all the lovely feedback. I'm glad you're enjoying these!**

* * *

 _ **Prompt #14: 300 - That car has been a witness to some pretty heavy flirting.**_

 _Word count: 2,420_

* * *

"Vanilla or chocolate?"

"Vanilla," she says, earning herself a surprised look," it's underrated. "Cars or bikes?"

"That's not fair," he complains, then after a moment's hesitation he mutters, "bikes." It does not escape him how amused she seems by his exasperation, though he's fairly certain Erin knew what sort of reaction that question would spark off. "Fancy dinner date, or a pizza and a beer date?"

"Pizza and a beer date, come on Halstead, I'm beginning to think you don't know me at all. Are you making mental notes for if this ever happens?"

"This will happen, and I might be."

"Sex in the shower or sex in the bed?"

"God, I can't choose. No! Both, and that's final answer." She rolls her eyes again, smirking at how flustered he gets with the sexually charged questions. It's cute and a little bit of a turn on for her, even though she would never admit it to her partner, who's ego was already big enough to fill the small car sometimes. "Fancy pjs or ratty old t-shirt to sleep?"

"Actually," she murmurs, her voice suddenly dripping with honey, "neither." Her eyebrows raise provocatively to make sure he understands her answer, and he's pretty sure his jeans no longer fit him. Swallowing hard, he bites his lip, trying to look anywhere but at her. Trying to think of anything but Erin wrapped in nothing but those satin sheets he has seen on her bed.

"Maybe we should play another game," he suggests and she lets out a sultry laugh that shoots a flash of pain straight to his groin. It echoes around the car, reminding him of how rarely she laughs like this, without inhibitions, like nobody is there to see or hear her. Lately, he's been feeling pretty sure that not everybody can get that laugh out of her, and it makes him feel better than it should.

"Fine," she says with a chuckle. "This should cool you down. Would you rather have Platt staring you down or Voight yelling at you?"

"Hm, that's a good one. I'll have to go with Voight yelling at me. I mean, he's scary, but she's… Yeah, definitely Voight."

"Smart choice," she agrees.

"Thank you." He grins. "You know, this is our first stakeout," he says, cocking his eyebrow at her. She gives him a sarcastic eyeroll and one of her rare smiles.

"Well, you're not nearly as boring as my last partner," she admits. That earns her a grin, and she mentally kicks herself for turning into a puddle of mush. Staying cynic be damned, but that man has the most beautiful smile she has ever seen. It could prove to be a potential hazard.

"I'm touched," he replies.

They continue the game, passing the time, not knowing that their stakeouts would severely change through time.

* * *

"Take a left here," he says, and she eyes him with surprise.

"Why?"

"Just do it."

The narrow road leads them to the riverfront, and the place looks to be abandoned, with no one in sight for miles. The wind shakes the windows of the car. It has been windy for days now, the weather worsening every day, making Chicago's nickname accurate to those who believe it has been nicknamed after the actual wind.

She doesn't mind the wind. It's relatable to how she has been feeling lately—a storm bubbling inside her, preparing for fallout when she'll least expect it. Unsteady.

"Talk to me," he murmurs, and she wants to. She wants to break and tell him how guilty she feels, because out of all the people that have been asking her how she feels since Nadia's death, he's the only one that might come close to understanding the extent of her guilt.

But words don't come out, and even after she opens them it's only to close them back again, because she doesn't want to seem like fish on dry land. Her eyes fill with tears—that's been happening a lot to her lately in all the wrong places—and her face turns down, stubbornly staring at the steering wheel in front of her.

"Erin, please."

The words still don't come, but she does let the tears fall, because at the sound of his gentle understanding voice, there is nothing that could hold them back anymore.

Awkwardly, he tries to pull her against him, unbuckling her in the process so he can wrap his arms around her and muffle the sobs that are intent on echoing around the car.

His expression is half relief and half heartbreak; relief because he's been waiting for her to break even a little instead of being "fine" all the time; and heartbreak because there is no way on Earth he can make this better. He can't bring Nadia back. He can't convince Erin it wasn't her fault (even though it really wasn't). The only thing he can do, is be there for his partner in any way he can, and if that means clutching her body against his in the privacy of their car, he's got no problem staying there for hours.

* * *

He catches her gaze from across the crowded bullpen. The unit has been sitting around for most of the day, because of some red tape that's holding back the entire case. Voight is at the ivory tower trying to convince some guys above him to give them access to the files they need, but it's taking longer than they expected.

What they have is so new that a single look from her can get his blood pumping. She has slept over a few nights since they found out she wasn't going anywhere, and it was as good as anyone could wish for. It is heaven knowing that after long months of waiting, he can finally touch her and kiss her.

Jay follows her to the break room, where she is washing her coffee mug. "Meet me in the car in five minutes," she murmurs. He gives her a barely visible nod, wondering what this is about, but he completely understands why she doesn't want to do it—whatever it is—in the building. It's been crowded all day, and since they are still trying to hide whatever is between them, they need to be careful.

She's waiting for him on the backseat, so he joins her and lets out a breathy moan when she wastes no time in attacking him with a kiss. Not that he's complaining, it just throws him off balance. He makes a rather smooth recovery, returning the kiss with equal fervour.

"I've been waiting to do that all day," she murmurs when she pulls away for air. It's very unlike her, but she couldn't wait any longer. Watching him stand there in the middle of the bullpen like the world is his own, knowing he is essentially hers makes her feel like a horny teenager again.

"You won't hear me complain," he growls, lowering her down on the seat so they can't be seen and sealing their lips again.

They only pull apart about fifteen minutes later, when Ruzek knocks on the steamy window, leaving them red-faced and flustered.

"Sorry to interrupt you lovebirds, but we got the files, and Voight is looking for you." Their state is clearly amusing him. "You go freshen up a bit, cause you can tell exactly what you've been up to just by looking at your faces. I'll stall Voight."

"To be continued?" He asks when Ruzek leaves and she's tucking her shirt back where it belongs (or doesn't in his opinion).

"Oh, definitely."

* * *

They've been on a stakeout for about an hour, when she slides her hand along the length of his thighs, moving up. Their eyes meet in a surge of electric energy. She pulls him closer for a slow, torturing kiss, the one she knows will inevitably get him in the mood.

"Keep an eye on him," she whispers into his ears, and just like that he knows he's in trouble. He vaguely notices that she's unbuckling her seat belt and knows he should stop her, but he can't. He just can't.

She has been teasing him all day long. It started over lunch, when she casually brushed her hand wherever she could, before resting it on his thigh and leaving it there. It wasn't her hand that was the problem. It was the wild look in her eyes that made him want to carry her downstairs, press her against the blue metal of the lockers and, for the lack of a better word, ravage her.

Then, when they were going on the field, she helped him adjust his vest, and he was pretty sure her hand was not supposed to touch him there, but he didn't complain, flashing her a dirty grin at the time.

He didn't know she was going to take it to the next level.

But boy, oh boy is he in trouble now.

Swallowing hard, he tries to focus on the street, on the guy they're waiting for. But it's really hard, because her hand is rubbing against the fabric of his jeans and he is beginning to feel it more and more. And at that point, he kind of doesn't want the guy to show. At least not yet.

She unzips him, her hands moving with familiarity, because this is definitely not the first time she's doing that, and the distinct memories of their past encounters make his mouth dry with expectation. His hands grip the car seat to the point where his knuckles get white and he has trouble breathing, because she has now wrapped her delicious little lips around him, and he's caught somewhere between heaven and hell.

She takes him in her hot mouth, and all he can do is lace his fingers through her hair while her head bobs softly up and down. His eyes flicker on the street, where there is no movement yet.

"Oh, god, Erin—" His breath catches in his throat, as she drags her tongue up the base. He doesn't think he can go much longer, and he knows she can feel it, because she suddenly looks up, but doesn't pull away, instead fastening the pace, knowing exactly what to do to get him off.

"Fuck," he manages to get out with a strangled breath, his hips bucking up for the last time and his fingers clenching into a fist in her hair. For a moment everything is quiet, and he's lost in heaven. His fingers slowly unclench from her hair as he lets out a deep sigh of bliss.

Erin looks up again, licks her lips, and reaches over him to get the box of tissues out of the glove compartment. It's still there from when Jay was sick last year, along with the first aid kit and some granola bars (for when Erin is hangry).

The grin she gives him makes him roll his eyes, but he pulls her in for a brief kiss anyway. She's damn cocky about this, but she has a reason to be. "This is to be continued," he whispers into her ear, and she cocks her eyebrows.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

"Guy is a no-show," Voight's rough voice cuts over the scanner, snapping Jay out of his blissful state. "It was a bust. Head back to the precinct."

"Copy," Erin replied and smirks.

"Well, I wouldn't say a complete bust, what do you think?"

He smiles at her and shakes his head, almost embarrassed. "Definitely not."

* * *

"Take a right here," he whispers, and she looks at him for an explication, because that's not the way back to the precinct. She finds his reason in the hand he places on top of her thigh. It burns through the fabric of her pants.

She lets him lead the car to an abandoned parking lot, and he waits until she turns of the engine. The sexual tension in the car is palpable, pulsating somewhere deep beneath their skin.

"I thought you'd need a couple of minutes."

"Not with you, I don't," he whispers in a low voice, laced with need. He guides her hand down, so she can see how hard he is for her, and then pulls her on top of him.

With a certain amount of struggle, they manage to move to the backseat. Then he takes and takes with hungry kisses and hungry strokes of his fingers, demanding, wanting, never stopping. There is no time—the need for temporary release too big to stop for removal of clothes.

She awkwardly manages to pull off her jeans, and he doesn't manage to even to that before positioning himself at her entrance, hoping she's ready, because he can't wait a second more.

He finds she's more than ready when he buries himself deep inside her, as always managing to touch a piece of her hidden to everyone else. Even when it's like this, they've come to realize, quick and frantic, it's always with a notion of love. It scares her sometimes, the level of intimacy they have. The level of understanding between them. It feels like free falling. Like taking that extra step off a 30-story-building and just falling down with arms spread wide.

A groan escapes the depth of his throat as she arches up her hips to meet him thrust for thrust. They're both driven by need to reach that peak. A need more crucial that the one for air. He feels her shudder in his arms, and silences her cry with a kiss. One more thrust and he is literally flying over that edge for the second time that night.

* * *

"You know the new rig is great and all," he starts and she looks at him with raised eyebrows. Did he change his mind about driving? Because she was all for it. "I just think it would be proper to say goodbye to the 300."

The corners of her lips involuntarily turn upwards. He knows how to make her do that. "You mean one last make out session on the backseat?"

"Or a quickie, I'm open to suggestions."

"Well you know I'm all about proper."

"I know."

And it's about a dozen kisses and two orgasms later that they deem the goodbye proper, say their last goodbye to the car that has been with them throughout the course of their entire partnership.

Then they decide it would be only proper to also break in Sierra.


	15. Silent Communication

**A/N: I apologize for not seeing this before, but I posted this chapter yesterday, after the Dinner one, and fanfiction apparently didn't post it, so this should actually come before The 300, but I'm posting it after. I hope it goes through now.**

* * *

 _ **Prompt: Silent Communication - They never needed to speak in order to know what the other one was thinking or feeling.** _

_Word count: 1,224_

* * *

They say a look is worth a thousand words. Erin never really got that, until she met Jay Halstead. The day he walked into the unit, they have somehow been able to communicate to each other without words. Their eyes would meet for a second, and there would be an instant connection. Instant understanding of what the other was thinking. It had saved them multiple times on the job, and with their desks placed facing each other, it had kept them entertained when cases were slow and paperwork was boring.

Erin is standing now in front of a man, whose gun is pressed against the head of a little girl. Her head is trembling with fear, and Erin's heart breaks for her, but it's not the time for sympathy. He's backed into a corner, and has nowhere to run, so she's scared of what he's willing to do to get out. Her whole body aches to go help the child in his arms, but she needs to stay calm.

"Put your gun down! Now! Slowly!"

She bends slowly, sliding her piece onto the floor with two fingers. There is a slight movement and her eyes flicker behind the man where her partner is standing with his gun.

He shoots her a look, and she hopes he sees the answer in her eyes as clearly as she saw the plan in his. He shows her three fingers, and she blinks once to confirm. They don't want to startle him. His gun is entirely too close to the little one's head, and his hand is shaking too much.

"Look, you don't have to do this. Let the girl go, and you can walk out of here."

"You don't think I know I'm surrounded?"

"We just care about the child," she tries to reason with him, but he's too far gone for reason.

She glances at Jay, who nods for go, so she launches herself at the perp, breaking contact between the gun and the girl, effectively placing herself between as a shield. The bullet she expects never comes, because Jay knocks the gun out of his hand and puts some cuffs on him, before he can even move.

"Lovely," she murmurs, already comforting the brave little girl in her arms. "What's your name, sweetie?"

"Tammy."

"Okay, Tammy. We've got your mommy and daddy waiting, and they want to see you very much. You wanna go see them?"

The smile on her face spreads instantly at the mention of her parents. Erin almost envies her ability to forget all the bad things so quickly. Jay walks the perp out of there, and their eyes meet briefly. No words are exchanged, but she knows.

 _Good job, partner._

* * *

Other days their unspoken communication serves as entertainment, when words couldn't be spoken, mostly because their boss is breathing down their necks.

"Did I say something funny, Halstead?"

Caught in the action, he shakes his head with guilt. "No, sir. Not at all. Sorry."

The truth is that the looks Erin was giving him across the room were making it impossible for him to keep a straight face. The unit shoots him a collective glare, but he knows he didn't make Voight mad. Maybe madder, but he didn't start it.

Voight is on a rampage−has been for days−and everyone in the bullpen is currently trying very hard not to challenge his wrath. Erin knows something must've happened, but when he's like this, even she doesn't feel like pushing. The fact that even Erin is avoiding him makes everyone else double scared.

Jay is buried in a pile of paperwork, as caseload is slow, and she has been trying to get his attention for the past couple of second. Finally, she resorts to a paper ball, and sure, that has his head snapping up and looking at her.

His blues are like the calm after the storm, and she can always count on them to bring her peace of mind.

Words would be necessary if it were anyone else, but with Jay, she doesn't need to utter a word. She doesn't even have to eye the break room, because he's a step ahead of her, muttering something about a coffee. She waits a second, and follows him.

For a few seconds, they stand next to each other, preparing each other coffee. She does his and he does hers, and their sides touch and the world is a better place. The angry boss and the scared co-workers and the pile of paperwork forgotten, as they share this silent moment with each other.

She looks up at him, because she has to, because he's a head taller, and smiles. They return to the stack of papers on their decks, but somewhat lighter with their moods improved.

* * *

"Oh, by the way man, Voight wants to see you in his office," Jay says, and Erin chuckles. That news always sounds like a death sentence. An idea crosses her mind and she forces herself to keep a straight face.

"Yeah, man, and he did _not_ look happy."

Jay looks at her, confused, because Voight didn't actually seem in a bad mood anymore, and instead just told them to send Ruzek his way when he got in, but it takes one look and he's in on the prank. "True. Would not want to be in your shoes."

"What? Wait are you sure? Cause I don't remember doing anything wrong. Lately."

"Just telling what we saw," Erin says with fake sympathy and hates herself for enjoying the expression on Ruzek's face so much. "I think he said something about professional behaviour in a work place," she adds, furrowing for the dramatic effect, while emphasising the word _professional._ Jay covers up his grin, knowing exactly where this is going.

Not so long ago, they were leaving the bullpen caught up in conversation, and they caught Kim and Adam in a pretty compromising position in the locker room. Watching Ruzek pale at the idea of Voight knowing what goes on around this precinct is quite honestly the best entertainment any of them has had for days.

Neither of them manages much longer, and they both burst into laughter at around the same time. The mixture of relief and irritation on Ruzek's face speaks volumes. They crack up again, and he finally joins them.

"Nice one, guys. You had me terrified there."

"It was a too good of an opportunity," Erin admits, and her eyes meet Jay's. "But he does want to see you, for real. I just have no idea about what."

"Is he mad?"

"Nah," she chuckles, and watches him stand taller as he heads for the boss' office. Jay laughs, covering his mouth with his hand, and Erin smiles into her coffee, and their eyes meet like always. It almost seems as if they are magnets, always attracting each other's gaze.

He cocks his eyebrow at her, causing her to roll her eyes back at him. "Wanna go do some professional stuff in the locker room?" He asks with his voice teasing and his eyes alive.

Minutes later, when she's pressed against the blue surface with his tongue down her throat she thinks how nice it is to have this sort of silent communication with her partner.

How nice it is not having to speak at all.


	16. Undercover

**A/N: From the response I got for this one on tumblr, all I'm gonna say is: I'm sorry. I'm a tease. I know :D I hope you like it anyway.**

* * *

 _ **Prompt #15: Undercover - They were a good team.**_

 _ **Word count: 1,678**_

* * *

"Word has it he's gonna be at the charity event tonight. Halstead and Lindsay will go in as a couple making a donation. We will bring in backup if necessary. But for right now, we just want to talk to him, to see if he's got any intel. Just be careful, he's spooks easy." He pauses, looking at the two detectives in question. "Hope you got some fancy clothes stashed away somewhere," he says, eyeing Erin.

Though Voight always makes sure they know that he's not okay with how close Erin and Jay are, he's never had a problem using it to their advantage. If it's a question of sending in a couple, it's always Halstead and Lindsay. He knows they can, and will sell it.

It's a couple of hours later, and Jay's jaw is on the floor.

If midnight was a dress, it would look like this, he's sure, as his heart drops and his breath catches in his throat. The lose fabric is made of midnight sky, covered with stars—stars that shine almost as bright as her eyes.

He's always known she was beautiful, but he has never seen her like this. The closest she came was on the night of her high-school reunion, when she dolled up for the party she never ended up attending in the end.

It's difficult to even see her in the ethereal being in front of him. It's an undercover persona, he knows, and to anyone watching, there would be no Erin left, but he knows her better than anyone. He sees how her hands caress the fabric every chance she gets, and how she enjoys the lose fabric flowing after her as she walks towards him. He envies the confidence in her lively step.

Her lips are painted dark red to compliment her dress, but all he can think about, is how her lips would complement his.

"Wow," he manages to get out, wishing he could find the words to pay her a better compliment—one worthy of the appearance before him, but the words just don't come, so he leaves it at that, hoping it managed to get the message across.

She smiles, not resorting to sarcasm for once and deciding to accept the honest compliment he packs in that one word. "Thank you."

Her lip catches between her teeth as she takes him in as well. He went all out, including wearing a bow tie, which makes her breathing just a little too shallow and her mouth a little too dry. "You don't look bad yourself," she teases and they exchange familiar smile.

"You ready?"

"Yeah," she nods. "Did you get my text?"

Voight called her somewhere in between shaving her legs and putting on her makeup and said that if the guy isn't there they have another window tomorrow morning. She nearly dropped the phone when he said to pack an overnight bag, because he booked them both rooms at the hotel.

"In this hotel? Are you sure?" He looks at the gigantic building raising up before them that screams luxury.

"All expenses paid."

"Does that mean I'll get to see your pjs?"

"I already told you I sleep naked," she teases back.

"Even better."

* * *

"I didn't know you could dance," she murmurs while he's successfully not stepping on her toes while Frank is singing about lovers at first sight, making her painfully aware of the proximity of their bodies. His arm is nothing but decent on her back, but the heat burns her skin through the thin fabric of the dress.

"It's a long and embarrassing story." Which she then proceeds to get out of him and he is rewarded by the sound of her sultry laughter in his ear as they sway together in the rhythm, when he tells her his mom signed Will and him up for dance classes when they were little.

"I wish I could've met your mom," she murmurs softly, hoping she isn't crossing any of the proverbial lines. Jay doesn't speak much about his family, except for his occasional rants about his brother. She knows enough to know his relationship with his father isn't the best, but she hasn't heard him talk about his mother that much.

"She would've loved you," he tells her earnestly, because in all honesty Erin meeting his mom is something he has thought about more times than he cares to admit.

"You think our guy is gonna show?" She asks to change the topic, hoping he didn't notice the tears in her eyes at the comment about his mother. She wishes she could meet the woman responsible for this gentle-yet-strong man in front of her—the man currently occupying the good portion of her dreams.

"I hope not. I really want to try out that bed in my room. It looked so soft."

She chuckles at his enthusiasm, her mind wandering at the mention of the bed. She thinks about how soft his own bed is, and how weird it is that she knows that since they're only friends. He holds her closer, and it becomes strikingly obvious how close they are, and how her entire body is pressed against his. It causes her skin to flush, and she can only hope he won't notice the red in her cheeks.

He moves back to be able to look at her, and then his gaze shifts to someone behind her. Before she knows it, his lips are on hers, soft, but intent. Her shock is replaced by feelings of pleasure, as she realizes that his lips are finally on hers, even though not in the most conventional way.

"Don't look, I think our guy spotted us," he whispers against her lips, and she swallows, nodding. It was to maintain their cover. Her face falls a little, regretting that after all the time she spent imagining their first kiss, it happened undercover. It doesn't take long for her to realize that regardless of the situation it was a great kiss. One of the best she's ever had, and it only makes her wonder how much better it could get.

"He's leaving," she whispers against his cheek, as he elegantly guides her across the dance floor. "We'll have to try again tomorrow. I asked the receptionist, she said he's going to be at the pool."

"Hope you've brought your swimming suit."

* * *

"Could you?"

He looks at her, confused. She's standing in the middle of the hotel room, the only light provided by a dim floor lamp, throwing warm shades over the room. The view is spectacular, and if they weren't in one of the most light-polluted city, he's sure they could see the midnight stars he compared to her dress earlier. Erin turns away, lifting her hair up, making him swallow.

The zipper. The current bane of his existence.

"Sure," he replies, trying to sound casual. No big deal. He's seen her bare back before. That one time, when he helped her clean a scratch (since she refused medical attention at the scene). He's seen her change at the locker room into a clean shirt after blood of a victim soaked the one she had been wearing. Not like he's been replaying those moments in his mind all the time ever since. Not like he's been dreaming of a day he'll see it again. He's glad there are no injuries present this time.

Erin has never had any reservations—not really being the shy type—about stripping in front of guys. It sends Jay to eternal purgatory for being able to see, but not touch.

His fingers awkwardly take a hold of the zipper and he pulls down, all the torturous way down to where her spine ends and the black lace of her underwear begins. Absently, he notices the lack of the matching stripe on her back, which signals that she is not wearing a bra underneath the dress, and that knowledge sends a rush of blood directly to his groin.

He tries not to think about how perfect her skin is. How creamy and how soft it would feel if he just slid his fingers across it. Her sharp exhale makes Jay realize that while he was trying not to think about it, his hands have wandered on their own. His caress stops at the lower part of her back–dangerously low already.

He tries not to notice her laboured breaths and the little droplets of swear trickling down her spine. Jay knows she won't stop him. Curious, he softly pushes the fabric off her shoulders, watching it pool around her ankles.

She doesn't turn, and yet he can almost imagine her eyes darkened by lust—her soft skin there now, for him to touch, and he knows they could take this all the way.

Somewhere in the part of his mind, thinking with the wrong head, he wants to kiss her until her lips are swollen, then throw her on the enormous bed while she's wearing nothing but those sinful heels, and sink into her.

But there is another part of his mind, replaying her words from the night of her high-school reunion. He can still remember the exact tone of her voice, and the exact regretful look in her eyes.

" _We can't."_

Something tells him it's not 'one day' yet, so he wills himself to take a step back. It goes against his better judgement, as all he really wants to do is tear off the black lace that's currently taunting him, bury his fingers inside her, and see just how wet for him she is.

Her disappointed sigh doesn't make it any easier to stop.

"One day," he promises, pressing a hot kiss between her shoulder blades. Then, he walks away, before backing out is no longer an option.

One day.

One day his lips will know every inch of the silky skin. And lucky for him, that day happens to be worth waiting for.

Until then, he's going to have to take a lot of cold showers.


	17. Beers

**A/N: I loved reading your reactions to the previous chapter. That's how evil I am haha. But to make up for the lack of certain things, this chapter is rated M.**

 **I hope you guys like it, and again, to the people who leave reviews and like and follow: you're my heroes! I love you!**

 **Respective lines belong to Shonda Rhimes, so all the credit to her. The rest is mine.**

* * *

 **Prompt #16: Beers - A cold beer after a long day always made everything better.**

 **Word count: 1,285**

* * *

So far, he has managed to limit the damages to a total toll of a couple broken glasses.

He also managed to serve two wrong orders, but charmed the girls into accepting them anyway, which earned him a thumbs-up from Herrmann, who's carefully watching his every move.

They're slammed—have been for a while now. The bar started filling soon after he got himself into this mess—which he's still not sure how.

Oh. Right. He's a nice person.

So, when Gabby begged desperately for him to take her shift—claiming it was easy, just give people drinks and they'll love you—he accepted as a favour to a friend. A friend that neglected to mention to him that there are eight different types of beer, or that the cash-register can be a finnicky little thing if you're not an expert in handling it.

By the time she enters, he'd like to think he's getting a hang of it. He also knows that he's wrong in deluding himself about it.

Her eyes widen in surprise when she sees him, standing behind the bar with a towel over his shoulder. He nods to Will, and laughs when his brother continues mocking him. She makes her way across the crowded place, using elbows to get through with no guilty conscience. Then she plops into a chair next to the surgeon, raising her eyebrows.

His smile grows now, because however Will can manage to be funny, his brother just doesn't put him in the same mood as the certain gorgeous brunette. Her arrival automatically improves his mood.

She's sporting a smile that's making her dimples pop, and his worries disappear almost immediately. Who cares for a few broken glasses when he gets to see this smile almost every day.

"Hey," he starts, replying to her grin, "haven't seen you around here." The teasing in his eyes is impossible to miss, and she shakes her head.

"Neither have I," she murmurs, following his story.

"What can I get you?"

"I'll have a beer." _With a side of you, please._

"You a firefighter too?" He asks, as he opens a bottle, setting it in front of her. He can almost hear Herrmann nagging about moving faster, but he craves a couple of minutes with her, after being apart almost the entire day.

"Cop," she chuckles. "You?"

"Bartender for the night," he says with a wink, and watches her figure out how he got himself behind the bar.

"Looks very fitting. For a househusband."

"Oh, I don't know about that," he replies, almost insulted, and she huffs. "I'm just a guy in a bar."

"I'm just a girl in a bar," she echoes and smiles. The spark between them is there—it's always there. Causing sparkling tension whenever their eyes meet, or whenever their bodies shift, as if they're both hyper aware of every movement.

She traces a drop of dew trickling down the bottle of the beer, and that gesture alone is enough for him to shift uncomfortably and swallow hard. Then she rubs the water on her neck in a seeming attempt to cool herself off (or set him on fire).

"I think I can take a fifteen-minute break," he murmurs, and she grins with triumph.

"Ten is all I need."

They avoid the restroom, as the bar is unusually crowded. She lets him steer her towards the supply room in the back, and pull her behind a big shelf. They're mostly hidden and out of immediate view to anyone that might come in.

Their lips crash together almost immediately in an all-consuming kiss that lingers on her lips and makes her toes curl in her shoes. It's raw and full of passion, and it reminds her of how good he is at this—makes her want him even more.

He fills his hands with her—tugging, clawing at the flesh beneath his fingers until it elicits that breathy moan of pleasure he feeds off. Her hands are on his belt buckle, working desperately to make this break long enough for the release of the pent-up frustration of the day.

Her own jeans get pulled down, followed by the plain cotton underwear she wears to work (when she doesn't foresee a quickie in the supply room of their favourite bar).

She curses under her breath when his finger offers a small glimpse of what heaven looks like. The shelf beneath her is hard, and her back is going to complain when the adrenalin leaves her veins, but right now, she doesn't care. All she cares about is that second finger he adds, while he brushes his thumb over her in the perfect rhythm.

Seconds before sending her over, he removes the hand, followed by a groan of frustration, and slides inside of her with a single, sure push of his hips. What follows is a moment of stillness; the noise of the bar fades away, and they're the only two people in the world, and they forget that someone could walk it at any second, or that her shelf they're leaning against is full of glass bottles, and the only thing that matters is his heartbeat against hers, and that peak that's closer with every desperate thrust of his hips. It's amazing that they can still feel this intimacy between them, even if the setting is anything but intimate.

He groans, opening his eyes to look at her. To blink her into focus, the eyes darkened by lust and the lips swollen from kisses—his kisses. He moves within her—his strokes strong and steady, and sending her spiralling.

They come together, both of them rocking in sync and gasping for air. Their screams get muffled by each other's lips, both knowing that they can't be as loud as they want to be, because the crowd from the bar only silences so much.

He leans against her, still breathing hard. His face buries in her neck, mumbling incomprehensible sounds that only she understands, and chuckles softly in reply. Her hand reaches up, tangles in his damp hair to feel him closer.

"I think your break is over," she teases him, and he groans. They fumble and clean themselves off, and kiss whenever they can, before making sure they look presentable and heading back to the bar.

"If you say a word of this to anyone," he warns her, and she only chuckles, shaking her head. "Cause I might lose my job," he adds jokingly, before returning to the bar.

She watches him hand out beers and collect tips from flirty women for the rest of the night, feeling only a slight need to strangle them. Only slight, because she's the one who gets to make him come in a supply room, and she's definitely the one who gets to go home with him, after the night of serving beer is over.

And next day after work, she'll be the one sitting next to him, sharing a beer and a laugh. Not them.

So that's what she patiently reminds herself of, when he smiles at their attempts, but catches her eyes every now and then, and it's all she needs for the fire inside her to ignite.

And later, when she's lying on his chest at her apartment, and his skin is warm under hers, and they're watching an episode of Criminal Minds, because neither of them can sleep just yet, she reminds herself just how lucky she is to be the one who gets to press her head on top of his chest, and let the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull her to slumber.

Little does she know his last thought before joining her is almost the same.


	18. I Have Your Back

A/N: This was based on a prompt "I was thinking, it'd fill a necessary void if you wrote a piece about linstead after jason died, and erin just confiding in jay". It's set between S3 finale and 4x01.

For the people wondering, I was a bit ahead with these on tumblr, because I started posting here later on. But with this one, we're all caught up, so yay! It means from now on they'll be freshly written. And the next one will take us to the smut land :D

Thanks for all the kind feedback you lovely people give! I enjoy reading each and every one of them!

* * *

 ** _Prompt #17: I Have Your Back - She knew he had her back. In and out of work._**

Word count: 1,451

* * *

It's just the latest in a series of very long, exhausting days. Her eyes burn with hot heavy tears and her shoulders are slouched as though they are carrying the weight of the world. She drags herself up the stairs for what seems an hour, until she finally catches a glimpse of her door and sighs with relief.

She's irritated. She's defeated. She's angry at the world and at herself. At the sight of Jay behind the oven, all those emotions bubble out and she directs them at the only available person.

"You're cooking? I thought we were getting take-out?" She sneers the question in his vague direction without even saying hello first. On top of everything else, she's also hungry. And hunger mixed with anger is a dangerous combination, especially if food is suddenly not coming in a bag already prepared, but she has to wait for it. And she's not in the waiting mood.

"We've been eating take-out the entire week. I could go for a home cooked meal," he explains patiently, stirring whatever is sizzling in the pan. "It should be ready soon."

"I'm gonna change," she mutters, dropping her bag on the floor by the door, where she's also kicked off her shoes. When Jay texted her about dinner, hours before, she didn't quite picture this.

She lets the steamy water run down her body, washing away the grime and the sweat of chasing and running after the suspects. Why do they always run? Overall, it was not a good day. It was not a good week to begin with. Five men, all dead, same MO. But no hard evidence. The killer had them chasing their tails for five whole days, leaving three more bodies before they caught him and even then, she had to chase him down.

When she gets back the kitchen is filled with a delicious smell, she knows he was right before. Not that she will admit it, but she could use a home cooked meal as well. The hunger makes her scout the kitchen for spoils and he lets her taste the rice.

"Good?" She only nods, heading to set the table while he plates the food. He doesn't say anything about her abruptness, harsh words, or the lack of a hello when she came in. He doesn't comment on the clinking of dishes when she sets them on the table with a force that could easily chip them. In fact, there are quite a few chipped dishes in her collection that could testify of the very force.

He just finishes with the food and sets it in front of her, and she suddenly feels like a bratty child. She wants him to know she's sorry for feeling this way. For resenting his presence there, because all she wanted to do was eat take-out and wallow in her self-misery.

But instead she just eats. The soup warms her up, and the taste of fresh grilled mushrooms makes her almost moan with pleasure.

She lets him clean up afterwards, while she cuddles on the couch with a bowl of desert in a form of her favourite ice-cream that he must've picked up as well, because she knows for a fact that she was out.

"Thanks for dinner," she murmurs when he's done cleaning and putting dishes away. Her kitchen is once again spotless, and she eyes the empty bowl she's set on the coffee table with guilt. But she just doesn't feel like getting up and putting it away. And, she stubbornly thinks, it's still her place.

"Do you want me to leave?" He asks, and the tears from before threaten to spill again. The hate for herself bubbles to the surface, but she manages to shake her head at him, because no matter how bitter she is, the thought of Jay walking out the door only makes it worse. Scooting to the side, she makes space for him on the couch and he joins her—hesitantly, but does.

His proximity doesn't make everything better, but her body relaxes a little at the smell of him invading her nostrils. His hand is on her back and she's about to make it very clear that she's not in the mood tonight, but the usual caresses don't come. Instead he kneads her tired muscles until a moan escapes her and she shifts herself so he has a better access.

Without words, somehow, he once again knew exactly what she needed after a crappy day. The tension of the day starts leaving her body with every rub of her back, until she feels like herself again, and her back leans against him.

His hands wrap around her now, finding her fingers and intertwining them with his.

"I got you," he murmurs, and yes, for the first time in her life, she believes that. Believes that even on her worst days he won't walk away. Finally believes that what remains when the hunger between them simmers down will be enough for the rest of their lives. That this—his arms around her waist and their laced fingers—will be enough.

The first person that showed her that unconditional love exists was Camille. Hank only followed after she selflessly took her into her home, into her family, and showed Erin what being a mother meant. And as happy she is with the family that life gave her (better late than never right?), she never thought she would find it again. She didn't dare to dream. Especially not after losing Camille, and now Justin.

"I just miss him." Is that her speaking? She barely recognizes her voice from being silent all evening.

"I know."

"And it makes me miss Camille. Because she was the one always holding everyone together. And now that Hank is so lost, and I don't know how to help him…"

A quiet sigh emerges from his lips, and he hides it by pressing an assuring kiss on her temple. He's frustrated, she knows that. She closes her eyes, simply enjoying the domestic gesture. Who knew that the street girl she used to be would turn into this romantic creature who only craved intimacy and comfort.

"You can always talk to me. Don't pull away." His voice is on the verge of breaking, but she doesn't turn all the way. Only as far as necessary to place a kiss somewhere alongside his neck.

"I know. It's just hard for me. It's all I know." The pushing away, the non-sharing—it's all she's ever known. It's the wall she built to protect herself from being hurt again (though somehow Bunny always managed to get through to her anyway).

She can't see him, her body turning away from his, but his chest is falling and rising, and his heartbeat is drumming in sync with hers, and his warm breath tickles her skin. It's easier if she doesn't have to look at him.

"Thank you for not pushing."

"I'm here when you want to talk. And when you don't."

He's been there. It must've been days since he's gone to his apartment. The last time she remembers was the night after Justin was killed, when she didn't leave him much of a choice by ignoring his calls—everyone's calls. That was weeks ago. Since then, he's been a quiet, but constant presence, despite her numerous attempts at pushing him as far away as possible. Suddenly, Erin can't imagine it any other way, because at some point in their relationship, she started wanting him around—even when she's angry, and irritated, and bitter. At some point, she traded her necessary independence for his solid presence in her life.

She wants him to be the last thing she sees at night, and the first thing she touches in the morning, when her eyes are too tired and she reaches out to find that her bed hasn't been empty for almost a year now.

She makes a mental note to talk to him about that some other time—some more appropriate time. About him never leaving. That's what she's thinking about when the tiredness overcomes her and her breaths become steady and slow.

"Don't go."

It's the last words that drip from her lips before she slips into unconsciousness. His soft response comes only seconds later, as he pulls a blanket over both of them—a cocoon for her to feel safe and sound.

" _Never."_

The first peaceful sleep she's had in days comes with the knowledge that she has a partner that has her back, in and out of work. And not that she didn't know that before, but it sure feels nice to be reminded from time to time.


	19. Shooting Range

**A/N: Alright, here we are. That's the latest one, that I've only posted on tumblr yesterday. From now on we're all caught up and I'll be posting here and there at the same time!**

 **GUEST: I did not mean to insult Wisconsin! I promise! I just meant it as in it was probably a small village/town so there would be a really tiny store? Because they were more in the rural part, since their cabin was very isolated. That's all that meant by that comment. That they wouldn't be able to get a very good champagne in some little store. I just felt I needed to clear this up for ya! But I will admit to having limited knowledge of Wisconsin, though it looks beautiful as hell!**

 **This chapter is M rated, just a warning.**

 **I borrowed a line from Teen Wolf. People who watch it will know which one :p**

* * *

 ** _Prompt #18: Shooting range - He knew she'd win. But trying to beat her was so damn fun._**

Word count: 1,157

* * *

"You know I'll win."

"Care to put a little wager on it?" He smirks at her knowingly. This has become a sort of a ritual for them, tradition even. Every year they have to get recertified in the range, and it's something he looks forward to—even though he loses most of the times. Judging by the smile on her face, she doesn't mind these visits to the shooting range either—probably because she gets to brag all around about her perfect board.

He doesn't know why he plays along with all the bets. He knows she'll win. With that one exception of the first year, she always does. But it's fun, so they both go with it.

"If I win, which I will, hmmm, let's see." Her voice drops as she leans over and whispers the conditions of the bet in his ear. She has him swallowing hard at the innuendo, and his face looks like he just won the lottery.

"Doesn't seem fair. I win, even if I lose. What if I win?" He asks cheekily.

"You won't. But you can choose your reward afterwards if you do."

"Does that mean you'll handcuff me to the bed? Cause that would be hot."

She cocks her eyebrow at him with a smile. "Maybe."

He sees something dark flash behind her eyes. He can't wait to finally lose this bet and find out just what she's had in mind.

"Oh, and Jay? Think about me out there." She leans over to whisper in his ear again. " _Naked."_

* * *

She wins the bet. Considering that last sentence, Jay is surprised he even passed his certification at all, let alone win.

But as she pushes him against the wall of the confined space to give a little preview of what's to come, he doesn't mind at all.

Grinning wickedly, she exerts the little power she has over him, before he takes over. He always does, and she never complains. And true to that, his hands start roaming on their own and she knows she's lost.

He rolls them, so her back is arched against the wall, kissing her so hard she forgets her own name. "I like being at your mercy," she murmurs, when they part, both gasping for air. He kinks an eyebrow at that, because yes, he knows, and because yes, he also loves having her like this—whimpering at the smallest touch. "Also, what is it with us and the storage rooms?" She asks with a grin, remembering the time a couple of weeks ago at Molly's, when Jay was filling in as a bartender.

"Must be our spot," he replies, nipping at her collarbone. The sounds she's making are sending blood straight to his groin. He lets out a deep sigh, pushing the bulge in his jeans against her, searching for that delicious friction, but then pulls back at the sound of footsteps. They'll have to take this someplace else.

* * *

"I like having you at my mercy," she whispers, nearly echoing her previous words. Her voice is dripping with desire. She shakes her head when his arms move around her. "Can't touch. Or I'll have to punish you." She takes a hold of his hands and pins them above his head with a grin. He groans, but obeys, leaving the hands where she pinned them, even as she lets him go. She did win the bet after all.

"This should be fun," he says with a smile, as she tightens some sort of tie around his wrist.

"For me at least," she says, cocking her eyebrow at him. Her teeth take a hold of her bottom lip for a moment, before releasing it. She knows what this is doing to him.

True to her word, she teases him mercilessly, leaving a trail of butterfly kisses over his torso, rubbing herself against him, chasing her own climax. When the promise of the peak becomes too much, and his hands strain against the tie, his muscles flexing, and he is unable not to touch, she only makes it worse by slipping her fingers between her legs, leaving him only with the option of watching, and suffering.

She comes with a loud moan, unable to supress the overwhelming pleasure, while all he can do is think that he has never seen anything as glorious as Erin, on her knees, still riding her wave.

He has to touch her.

She suddenly feels his hands on her. Wanting. Demanding. He must've ripped the tie at some point, or gotten through her knots (truth be told she has little to no clue how to tie a good knot) because he pushes her even further now, his skilled fingers taking over for her, and she doesn't mind one bit. Heaven comes down to earth for her as her hips buck up, wanting more—wanting for it to never end.

After the shakes of her orgasm subside, she lets him wrap his arms around her and pull her onto him so he can bury himself inside of her, but even then, he lets her set the pace. And it just so happens that her pace is also his, and she soon makes up for all the teasing.

"Harder," she pants, and he thrusts up harder. This time, she comes harder than before, because nothing ever feels as perfect as when he fills her whole. No power game can make up for the things he makes her feel.

She strokes his hair, feeling his moist hair and sweaty forehead. Just before they both come, she slows down. It's the look in his eyes, she thinks, and the soft kiss she presses against his lips, that turn this race into something completely else.

In that moment, neither of them has the power, and as he thrusts for the last time, and her hips move to meet his, it doesn't matter.

They're equals in their silent surrender.

* * *

"That was hot," he manages to murmur in her ear, as she's sprawled all over him, too lazy, too tired to move. It was the same position she fell into when she came back from the bathroom after her legs finally started working again.

"Yeah," she agrees, "but I like it better when you're in control," she admits. She has never actually said the words out loud. That he has the power in bed, because she gave that up a long time ago (likely the first time they ever slept together). But despite the words unsaid, they both know it.

"You like being at my mercy?"

"I love it."

With a swift move, he pins her to the bed. He looks down at her, the look he gives her the only foreplay she needs.

"It just so happens I love it too."

Sometimes it's good to try something new, so that it can make you realize that you were happy with the things just as they were.


	20. Bunny

**A/N: This follows the events of 4x02, so after Erin and Jay agree to move in together… so… domestic fluff for you guys! Just so you know where to put it, because it kind of starts in the middle of everything.**

 **Also, I don't want to come off as whiny and ungrateful, but I barely got any feedback on the last chapter, so I'm just wondering if you guys are still reading it? And liking it? Help an insecure worried writer out.**

* * *

 ** _Prompt #19: Bunny - He knew how conflicted she felt and always provided support._**

Word count: 1,894 **  
**

* * *

The next two weeks of their lives consist of boxes.

After Jay realizes that Erin isn't going to change her mind about them moving in together, he almost shyly suggests they could start moving his stuff. His lease is ending and he needs to get out pretty soon. She doesn't mind at all, but that also means she has to get rid of some things, or at the very least re-organize her storage space to make room.

A lot is done already, because his clothes already occupied much more than just the standard one drawer, and she loved it that way. Even when he wasn't there (which wasn't very often lately), she got to wear all of his clothes.

He knew. She knows he knew. But he never seemed to complain that his shirts mysteriously ended up in the pile of dirty laundry, even though he didn't wear them. Or that his hoodies were never where he left them. Countless times, she has picked up his clothes out of the hamper where he always diligently put them, and washed it with her own—that's on the rare occasions she actually had time to do the laundry.

But now she doesn't even remember doing the laundry for a while, and she is convinced he has something to do with that, but since she never runs out of clean underwear (and even clean sexy underwear), she's not going to complain.

With a promise of a couple of beers and pizza, they recruit Ruzek and Atwater as cheap labour force to help them move the heavier objects, and even Burgess drops by. With joint effort, they have the moving truck loaded and ready to go in no time—at least with the basic necessities. She leaves it up to him to take the things he really wants to keep, and put the rest in storage or sell it.

With the boxes moving in—Jay's things now mixing with hers all over the apartment—comes a feeling of the move being real. That's why she casually suggests they throw a small housewarming party, to make it official. Nothing big, just their close friends and family. He seems surprised that she thought of it, but in a positive way, because he grins that boyish grin at her, and agrees with not too many words (and more kisses).

When she wakes up that day, she wonders what the hell she was thinking. But when she glances at Jay sleeping next to her, she knows exactly what. She wanted to see him happy and excited. This move has made him even happier than she expected, and she knows it has nothing to do with the financial benefits of sharing a place. It just feels right.

She closes her eyes for five more seconds, and when her alarm buzzes ten minutes later, he's not there anymore. Groaning at the empty cold place where his warm body was, she gets up and follows his movements. It's still dark outside, when she pads barefoot to the kitchen, catching him in a hug from behind while he's making coffee. Her arms sneak around him and she presses a kiss against his back, laying her head against the soft fabric of his shirt.

"Morning," she murmurs, her words muffled by his shirt; her senses overridden by his smell.

He turns swiftly, catching her lips in a kiss. "Morning." She's always surprised how quick his reflexes are this early. She suspects it has something to do with him being in the military, which is also why he's always up before her.

They follow their routine where he pretends not to notice her stealing his cup of coffee from under his nose, and proceeds to pour another one for himself. Meanwhile she hops on the counter, sipping on the steaming liquid. She has to admit that waking up to this, is much better than waking up alone.

They don't talk much until they both have sufficient amount of coffee in their systems. The silence that descends between them is intimate—comfortable. It's not until her phone buzzes on the counter next to her, that they speak.

"You're not gonna take it?"

"It's Bunny," she mutters. "I haven't been awake long enough to handle Bunny."

He nods, understanding with complete clarity what she means.

"Her timing couldn't be more perfect." When he raises an eyebrow, confused, she opens her mouth to elaborate on that. "It's just every time I'm happy, something happens," she admits, "something that ruins everything. And after Justin… I'm finally okay. I have my feet on the ground. We're good. We're better than good. And I'm happy. I'm as happy as anyone can be after suffering a loss like that. I just can't have her screw that up. Again."

She hates telling him this. It seems her past is the one never leaving them in peace. She hates to be the one always causing drama. It just seems unrealistic to her that someone would want her with all this baggage. But Jay does. Somehow, this wonderful man loves her enough to ignore that she seems to be the one constantly dragging them down.

He knows how conflicted she feels, and he always provides support. Sometimes in a form of advice, or a reminder he's there for her to lean on Sometimes, like today, in a form of a second steaming cup of coffee. She gives him a small smile.

"Babe, it's okay to feel conflicted about this. A bad person or not, Bunny is your mother. I don't know what I would do in your shoes. So if you feel torn, it's completely understandable."

"It is?"

"Yeah." With no other words, he gives validity to her feelings, and it makes things easier somehow. It's like he always knows exactly what to say.

"Do you want to cancel tonight? I'm sure no one will mind."

"No! We are not cancelling. I am done putting my life on hold for her. We have moved in together, and we're having this party tonight."

"Okay," he says with a smile. "Just wanted to give you a way out."

"Don't you know? I stopped needing it a while ago," she grins, pulling him closer. He follows her lead, stepping between her legs to be able to kiss her properly. She manages to put the coffee cup somewhere safe, before the heat takes over, causing them to be late for work third time this week.

* * *

"Hey, Lindsay! Turtle steps, huh? But you got here," Ruzek teases her, when she opens the door. Jay is busy in the kitchen, getting drinks for Burgess and Atwater, so maybe he won't notice if she kicks Ruzek down the stairs. But she grins at the comment instead.

"At least I didn't blow mine," she returns, causing Adam to flinch just a little.

"I'm not sure that's something you did. I'm pretty sure it's because he has the patience of a saint."

She's not sure either, in fact, she's inclined to agree with him, but she still shoots back, and they continue their banter all the way to the kitchen. Her man is standing there holding a kitchen towel, looking like the househusband he is. It brings an instant smile to her face. Her cheeks blush red a little bit. She loves not having to hide anymore. That he can steal a kiss, and doesn't care if anybody sees.

"Hank's not coming," she whispers, when she's helping him with the snacks. "Said he'd make the others uncomfortable. But he sent a gift." He's just about to ask what the gift is, when the doorbell announces the arrival of more guests, and soon the apartment fills with their friends—cops, doctors, firefighters.

After everyone calm down a bit, and the gift exchanges are over, Will clinks his glass with a spoon. "I always wanted to try that. Hey, you lovebirds, come here. I was assigned to make a toast."

"You assigned yourself," Kim says, and rolls her eyes, but they come closer to the group anyway.

"I could make like a thousand jokes, but I'm gonna try to be serious for a second. I take my toast duties very seriously. This is my brother after all."

Erin hums, feeling Jay laugh next to her.

"All I'm gonna say is, you took your sweet time, but here you are. Now, I'm not an expert or anything, but what you guys have is special. I don't usually make bets, but I'd bet on you two. So here's to big steps, and moving forward in the right direction. To you guys."

Erin almost would have preferred if he just made a silly joke, so she wouldn't feel the hot tears in her eyes as everyone toasts to their future. Jay's eyes find hers, as they clink their glasses. The eye contact never breaks when they sip on the champagne.

"Also, don't come knocking on my door when she kicks you out, man."

"And he's back," Jay says with a chuckle. "Thank you. Thanks to all of you for coming." Erin nods at his words, murmuring a quick thanks of her own, before pressing her lips against his cheek.

He sees her glance at her phone for a couple of times, before everyone leaves. She steps to the side, letting him lean on the door to close it behind everyone.

"That was fun."

"Exhausting, but fun," she agrees, yawning as on cue.

She looks at him, and doesn't only see her partner, her best friend and the man she loves. She sees her whole world reduced to one single person. One person she can't imagine living without. Not anymore.

"Welcome home," she says, the knot in her throat threatening to kill her voice. But shakiness is likely to be expected when you're dealing with matters like _true love._ Which she never believed in, until he came along, and changed everything.

But they both know, home isn't this building; it isn't this apartment; it won't be the house they'll move in years from now when they start a family together. Home is something much more.

It's waking up next to him and gazing into his eyes. It's a smile on her face when she steals coffee from him. It's the fact that he doesn't mind if she steals his coffee. It's the fact that he's been with her for three years, and he hasn't tried to change her. Not in all the ways that matter the most. It's the way he knows she's sad just by the smallest change in her voice, and how she knows he's upset by the way he kinks his eyebrow. It's the fact that he hates his freckles, and it's the thing that she loves the most about him.

It's looking at him and knowing she doesn't want anybody else. Because he is her home.


	21. Mom Talk

**A/N: There is one line I "borrowed" from TVD.**

 **I hope you like this, I love writing this pining "we-can't-be-together-but-I'm-in-love-anyway" version of Linstead.  
**

 **Huge thanks to everyone who continually supports me and my crazy ideas!  
**

* * *

 ** _Prompt #20: Mom Talk - When she talked about her mom, it was always about Camille, and he understood why._**

Word count: 1,519 **  
**

* * *

"You've gotta be kidding me," she starts incredulously when he finally opens the door. She has seen a zombie look better than him. He's wrapped into a blanket, the only thing looking out being his face, and she can clearly see he has a fever.

"I brought you soup," she states, waiting for him to invite her in.

"I didn't want you to see me like this."

"Like what? Human? You're an idiot."

He shivers, and she pushes her way into his apartment. When Platt said Jay had called in sick, she thought he maybe had a minor cold. Still, she felt the need to go check on him—he is her partner after all. And he's always there for her. But she didn't imagine he had a full-on flu.

"You'll get sick too," he mumbles when she leads him to the living room, pushing him on the couch with a not very gentle shove.

"I've had a flu shot," she replies, knowing that even if she hadn't, she would've stayed all the same. When she sees him like this, she gets an overwhelming need to take care of him. All she wants is to wrap him in a blanket and cuddle next to him in bed. But that's not possible. They're co-workers, partners even, and with Hank's embargo on in-house romance, there is not much she can do, but bury her feelings somewhere deep underneath.

He eats the soup, but it takes forever, because his hands are trembling and each time he spills everything right back into the bowl, until she finally takes mercy and takes the spoon from him. He tries to object, his ego getting in the way, but she shushes him, and he doesn't exactly have the power to fight her.

After she manages to get some food into him, she searches his apartment for meds, finding some in the bathroom cabinet. It's not an attempt to intrude his privacy, but her eyes do momentarily stop on the box of Trojan _Magnum XL_ on the same shelf. Her eyes widen, and her eyebrow kinks up against her will.

Shaking the thought of that, she heads back to the living room, forcing Jay to swallow some fever medication. Then, she tugs at the blanket he's wrapped in to make him go to bed. She knows, as well as everyone, that the best way to weather a flu is to sleep right through it.

Getting him to bed, she covers him with another blanket, planning to leave and check on him later, but he grabs her hand. It's sweaty and feverish, but it's still Jay's hand, and her heart swells a little.

"Stay." He looks at her, looking so vulnerable, so defeated, that she doesn't know how to refuse. "Please."

He scoots away, making room for her to lie next to him, and he mind drifts to her previous fantasy of cuddling in bed. She'll probably never get closer than this, so she revels in the feeling of proximity.

"This reminds me of when I'd get sick as a kid," he whispers. "My mom would always take care of me." Erin can sense the unspoken words. That nobody has ever since.

She remains silent. Because she didn't have a mom when she was little. Because she once almost died of a fever, until her neighbour noticed and took mercy on her. It's why she still calls her mom Bunny. Because she never did deserve that title.

"I got sick once," she replies after a long pause, choosing a different story. "Camille made me stay at home. I wanted to go to school, but she insisted. Made me her famous soup, and I got to stay in bed all day. It was the first time someone took care of me when I was sick." It was the best, she doesn't add.

"She was your mom," he manages to get out, and she nods. Whenever Erin talked about her mom, it was always about Camille.

"More than that woman ever was," she says with a sad smile. "I remember the first time I called her that. We both cried." She chuckles. "She was the one person who could turn me all mushy." He smiles at that, imagining a younger Erin getting to know what came as default for the rest of them—what it means to have a mom.

He seems a bit better, so she reaches to his forehead to check him temperature. "It's coming down." She feels relief, not really knowing what she would've done if it hadn't.

"When we were little, Will and I almost always got sick at the same time. You know, brothers, sharing a room and all. We were miserable. When dad left for work, mom would let us build a fort and play in there until we fell asleep. Then she would crawl in there with us, and take a nap." He chuckles at the last part. It's one of the fondest memory he has of his childhood.

"She must've been an amazing woman." She knows this, because of this man that's looking at her right now with a wide-eyed gaze. "She raised you."

"She was an angel. Kind. Positive. The exact opposite of my dad. She didn't really know how to change his attitude towards both of us, towards the world really, though she tried. But he loved her. God knows how, but he did. It was a complicated situation, and my dad was just really bitter most of the time. After she died, it got much worse."

He pauses, looking at her. She marvels at how blue his eyes always are, and how he sees right through her like no one else ever could. "She would've loved to meet you."

She smiles at the thought, pondering on why he said that, and when she opens her mouth to say something, he's deep asleep. His body is exhausted from battling the fever, and she knows he's down for the count.

The thought of leaving crosses her mind, but she doesn't want to let him down, and he did ask her to stay. She might as well get some rest while she's here, so she closes her eyes letting herself drift away.

When she wakes up, she finds Jay staring at her, or more like gazing.

"Creep," she mutters, making him chuckle. He looks much better now. The shivers are gone, and so is the ash colour of his face.

"You must've been dreaming about me. Explains the drool," he teases, and that's proof enough that he's back to normal, so she reluctantly gets up from bed. He follows her to the kitchen, where she collects her purse.

"Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah. Listen, thanks. I don't really know how to ask for help, so thanks for not making me ask."

"That's why you have backup," she murmurs the familiar line that has become their excuse whenever things get too personal. Whenever her throat starts closing with how she truly feels, her escape is that one line. That she did whatever she did because he's her partner, and not because she's in love with him.

"I really liked that soup. I wouldn't mind some more of it." She chuckles with disbelief and rolls her eyes.

"Maybe I'll drop by tomorrow. If you promise to take your meds."

"I'll be a good boy." He rewards her with a boyish smile, and she hates what it's doing to her. How it turns her knees to mush, and renders her throat unusable. It's all part of his charm—the one she fell for at some point, when she wasn't looking.

"I'm leaving now," she says, returning the grin, and throws a pillow at his face. He's obviously feeling good enough to feel jokes, and that's her cue. "Goodnight, Jay."

"Goodnight," he says, looking out of the window as if he only now realized it had gotten dark outside and that the only light is coming from the light beneath the kitchen cupboards. "Thanks again. Text me when you get home." She fights the urge to roll her eyes, but she doesn't. Because the words aren't coming from a place of doubt that she's able of taking care of herself. They're coming from a place of care—love even.

She nods, getting out before she forgets all the reasons why kissing him is a bad idea. While she's walking down the stairs and to her car, she's surprised with a warm thought of how nice it would have been to meet his mom. To meet the woman who raised two incredible boys into two strong men.

Glancing up, she notices the light now on in his apartment, and a silhouette standing at the window. He's watching her get into her car, she thinks. To make sure she's safe. Because that's what you do for the people you care about.

She never got it before, but she thinks someday Jay Halstead will show her just how great that can be. Until then, she's grateful for the little smile that only he can bring to her face.


	22. Locker Room

**A/N: Did you ask for smut? Idk, but you're still getting it.  
**

 **Thanks for all the lovely words from my loyal readers. The ones reading every single chapter of this, and reviewing. You know who you are. I love all of you! You are the driving force of my writing, so never stop.**

* * *

 ** _Prompt #21 Locker Room - They avoided it after getting caught that one time. What was Burgess even doing at the precinct so late?_**

Word count: 1,489

* * *

Some days, she wants him more than the others. That's not even the right expression. Some days, her libido jumps so high over the roof, she can't get enough of him. Like this morning, when he took her in the shower, and then again on the kitchen counter instead of breakfast. And yet somehow, it isn't enough.

She doesn't know what to do with this overwhelming desire, other than to give in to it, because even when it feels wrong, it feels so right.

"We shouldn't," she murmurs, the memory of what happened the last time still too fresh, still too embarrassing. But there is no real fight in her, because she wanted this since morning, when he brought his hand up to his face during the briefing in the bullpen. Fire burned inside of her when he looked at her across the room, knowing what he could smell. So she doesn't really have it in her to fight him on this.

They've been actively avoiding the locker room, since Burgess caught them once. What was she even doing at the precinct so late? Erin's cheeks burn red when she recalls Kim's outraged shriek when she caught them in the locker room—Jay still pulsing inside of her. She was so high on pleasure, she couldn't even bring herself to care back then.

"Do you want a repeat of last time?" She asks, a faint attempt of stopping him. But she doesn't want him to stop.

"I personally saw Burgess go home," he assures her. True to his word, the precinct is quiet, the only noises coming from outgoing patrol officers. The night shift already started, so the locker room is abandoned. "And I personally know, this spot right here," he says, backing her towards the wall, "has no camera coverage." Her breaths become shallow when he leans over, finding her weak spot behind her ear. "And this spot right here," he continues, dipping his mouth onto her collarbone.

Her eyes flutter, and her body arches against him, and she knows she's lost. This is the side of her she never knew until she started seeing him. The side of her that enjoys the thrill of danger of getting caught. It wasn't just the locker room, it was their car, and Molly's storage room, and once a long time ago, even an archive of old case files.

But then again, she never felt like this before about anyone. She has never felt the carnal hunger that could swallow her whole before, never wanted like she wants him. Like if she doesn't have him, the world might end.

So she lets his teeth graze the tender skin of her collarbone, and she lets his hands slip underneath her shirt, making her entire body tingle with anticipation. Her knees turn weak when his skilled fingers leave caresses on her skin, knowing exactly what they would do to her.

Willing herself to be quiet, she finally lets her hands wander too, sneaking underneath the grey Henley she watched him put on that morning. She would lie if she said she didn't love what that particular shirt did for his body. Suddenly feeling thirsty, she fills her mouth with him.

"Make it quick," she whispers hurriedly, and he nods in reply. His hands hook behind the hem of her jeans, and pull down along with her panties. She groans into his shoulder when his fingers find her clit, rubbing just where he knows will cause her to go into frenzy.

Meanwhile, her hands work on the buckle of his belt, teasingly touching the growing bulge in his jeans. She grins, knowing that while he knows exactly how to make her melt, she knows what it takes for him to fall on his knees.

"We don't have time for that," he groans, slipping his fingers inside of her. Her breath hitches in her throat, the force of pleasure almost knocking her off her feet. She needs to lean on him, to stop herself from falling, and he takes the opportunity, slamming his fingers in and out of her to give her a taste. But it's not enough—for either of them.

"Fuck," she moans, and he chooses that exact moment to slide her body up against the wall, his hands supporting her weight, and thrust inside of her. Her breathing is ragged, and her legs wrap around his waist tighter, and he knows she's close. It's like the need to be quick pushes them both closer to the edge.

His head falls onto her shoulder, and his sharp breaths are muffled by her shirt he never took off. He wishes he could lock this moment in time—when there is nothing else, only them, and the immense wave of pleasure that forces him to close his eyes and just stand there for a minute, before his world regains colours again.

"Damn," he mumbles and feels her body shake with laughter against his. It surprises him over and over again how good it is, how real, how earth-shattering. "We should go home," he suggests, and she nods. The flash in his eyes tells her he's not quite done yet, and neither is she. Somehow, this counts as appetizer, and she's looking forward to coming home and continuing this game of scrabble.

"You go get the car," she whispers, as they pull their clothes back on. "I'll meet you out front."

He nods, backing her against the wall for a raw all-consuming kiss as a preview of what's waiting for her at home.

* * *

"Not here," he murmurs, when they stumble into the living room and she goes for the couch. He wants her on the bed, where he can touch every single inch of her body. He walks her to the bedroom, kicking off shoes along the way, his lips never leaving hers.

He takes complete control. She has realized long ago that she likes it that way. So, she lets him tug off her clothing, piece by piece. He pulls off the jeans slowly, torturing her along the way. Then he traces kisses up the inside of her right leg, inch by inch, until she's barely standing, and grins when he feels her tremble. He knows what he's doing to her.

Her head falls back, her mouth open in endless anticipation. His lips move higher, but still not anywhere close. She feels his teeth scrape the sensitive skin of her inner thighs and bites her lip. He sucks on the skin, never missing any of her spots. By the time he looks up, and pulls the fabric down her legs, she's already barely able to stand.

He takes mercy, pushing her back on the bed. He lifts her arms to rest above her head and leaves them there, then he pulls her forward on the bed. His tongue plunges into her, sucking and licking. Her back arches against the mattress, and her hips buck up in desperate attempt to get closer. Her whimpers get louder, unrestrained, but her hands stay above her head, where he rested them.

He teases her, slowing his rhythm just as she's about to come, prolonging the sweet torture. He knows exactly the moment in which she climaxes. He feels her legs tense, her hands grab onto the comforter, and it feels like a dam breaking around him. It takes her seconds, before she can open her eyes, still misted with pleasure.

She reminds him of a mythical creature, something ethereal, when she lies like this, sprawled over the bed, coming down from another high. She looks at him with adoration, and complete trust.

"You just gonna stand there?"

He shakes his head, pulling his t-shirt off. He undresses slowly, making her squirm on the bed. Her eyes follow his every movement, and she feels her desire grow with every missing piece of clothing.

He waits, until his own desire is too much to bear. Only then he joins her on the bed. She lifts up to meet him, opens to take him. He slips into her, and only then it finally feels like their bodies are close enough.

The movement, slow and focused, sweeps them both away, filling them with deep pleasure. It's a complete contrast to the rush, the passion of before. They have all the time in the world now, as he watches her eyes blur and her neck arch back in a desperate attempt to get closer. He fights to hold on another moment, while her breath hitches and then releases with a low moan. She lets him push her over—her body going limp and soft while the room is filled with cries of his name.

He kisses her again, finding her eyes and drowning in them, before he empties himself into her.

Some days he just can't get enough of her. And luckily for him, most days they can't get enough of each other.


	23. Northern Wisconsin

**A/N: Okay, so I've noticed that my Wisconsin vacationing Erin and Jay always get cheesy and mushy, and this is no different. Just pure fluff with a bit of smut. This is just a really feel-good piece in my opinion, that has no angst at all. Enjoy. You deserve it.  
**

 **Also inspired by this prompt: "Hi Suzanna, if you're taking fanfic requests, I just had the middle of the night thought! What about a fic on Linstead heading to the cabin in Wisconsin and Erin getting poison ivy? Thank you in advance!" I'm sorry this took like a year, but here ya go. Ouch.  
**

 **If you want to read my previous cabin fic, you can find it under Snow Fights a.k.a. #4 in this series.  
**

* * *

 ** _Prompt #22 Northern Wisconsin - Cabin in the woods. Walks in the forest. Poison ivy. Ouch._**

Word count: 2,666 (what a funny number yo is this a sign I'm the devil tho)

* * *

"Are you sure we're not lost?" She wonders, looking around. It panics her to see there is nothing around them but miles and miles of woods. When he suggested some hiking, she didn't think they'd go this far.

"I'm a human compass, babe. Don't worry. Enjoy the view." He scoffs at the suggestion of being lost. He knows the woods around his grandfather's cabin like they're his backyard. "Breathe in the smog-free air."

She does exactly that, and enjoys the brisk forest chill entering her nose. Everything is so green, so different from the city life she's accustomed to. They've been here before, she remembers, but it was winter. The now green surfaces were then covered by a thick snow blanket. They didn't spend so much time outside that time, either taking advantage of the big bed in the master bedroom, or the enormous bathtub. Taking advantage of the fact that they weren't on call, and they didn't have to be anywhere.

This time, it's different. It's summer, so the pleasant 79 degrees and a warm sun peeking through the branches makes her take her jacket off. She would never admit it to Jay, after mocking his idea of retiring to Northern Wisconsin, but it feels good to reconnect with nature. They've already gone horse riding, and today it's hiking, and tomorrow, when the temperatures are supposed to raise all the way up to 83, they'll go swimming to the lake.

They still find plenty of time to spend in that comfortable bed, or on the swing outside. And sometimes, she takes advantage of the total silence around them, lack of people in the forest, and pushes him against the nearest tree for a much-needed kiss.

He can't do much protesting with her tongue in the way, so he melts into the kiss she initiated and swiftly turns them, so her back in the one pushing against the wood. She groans, letting him slow the kiss, until it becomes a lazy touch of their lips.

Erin loves kissing Jay. She loves the slow kisses that curl her toes and melt her insides, and the comforting kisses that spread warmth across her body, and the passionate kisses that threaten to burn her quick like napalm, until there is nothing but ashes left.

She lets him pull her forward, picking up the jacket she let slide on the floor. "I don't want a bear catching us in the middle of action," he tells her, enjoying the way her eyes spread wide.

"There are bears here? Are there?"

"Sure, there's the Northern Black Bear. Will and I saw it once. They stick to themselves mostly, because they feel threatened by humans. If it saw you, it would run in the opposite direction." She keeps asking for the rest of their way back, and he revels in the way she sticks close to him all the way. She might be a kickass detective, capable of kicking the ass of the worst imaginable criminals out there, but mention a bear, and she's a damsel in distress. Which means, he finally gets to be her knight in shining armour, even if just for a second.

* * *

"It itches," she complains a good two days later, letting him inspect the red part of her arm that she has the unimaginable need to scratch.

"Poison ivy," he diagnoses as soon as she shows him her arm.

"Poison ivy?" She looks petrified.

"As bad as you make it sound, I've had it so many times. It's nearly unavoidable here. You must've touched the plant in forest at some point. If I knew, I would've told you to rinse it before the rash started showing."

"Great," she murmurs. "Do I need to go to the doctor?"

"It looks pretty mild, so unless it gets infected, I think you'll be fine. I think I have something for it downstairs. Will was here in the spring and he got it, so it should still be fine." He starts rinsing her arm. "I think the best thing would be for you to take a shower, in case there is still some of the oil left, though I think you should be fine."

She nods, pulling her shirt off. He waits for her to strip, before carefully taking all her clothes to the washing machine. Then he goes in search of the Calamine lotion he knows has to be somewhere, thinking that maybe he should join her in that shower to make sure she thoroughly rinses every inch of her.

* * *

"Stop scratching!"

"But it itches!"

"Apply more lotion. Oatmeal bath can help also."

She pouts at him, but does as ordered, applying a thick layer of the Calamine lotion to her itchy arm. "I'm never kissing you against a tree again. Look what happens."

"Aww, don't make me pout too."

"I'm not pouting," she pouts, throwing a dirty glance in his direction. "What are we doing today?"

"I thought we could go swimming, the cool water should relieve the itch a bit?"

"Yes, please," she murmurs, wandering to the bedroom in search of her swimming suit. "Is there a bear repellent I can use?"

He tries to contain the loud laugh that sneaks its way out. He doesn't want to make fun of her, but her apparent city-girl attitude is more than amusing. She smirks back at him, while throwing a towel into the bag.

* * *

"You're sure nobody else is here?"

"Yeah, why?" He asks, wading into the lake. The water reaches up to his torso, and he's sure it goes deeper. The temperature is perfect for swimming, and he hopes it'll ease her itching a bit. He feels somewhat guilty about not warning her about poison ivy. She couldn't have known, being born and raised in Chicago.

He thought she would be more concerned about fish and other lake habitants. She's hesitating now, standing on the edge. Then, she removes the top of her swimming suit, followed by the bottom, and all he can do is gawk while she joins him in the water.

"I've always wanted to try skinny dipping," she admits, slightly agitated, but biting her lip to stop herself from smiling. He loves seeing this side of her, this carefree, playful edition of Erin Lindsay, who's been through too much in her life, and yet somehow always manages to move on.

She's just made it impossible for him to leave the lake for the next century or so, he stares at her with adoration because her carefree laugh makes it all worthwhile. Even the very painful erection not even the slightly cold water can stop.

When she presses her very warm, very wet, very naked body against his, it makes it even worse.

"You know what else I've always wanted to try?" She whispers, bracing her hands on his shoulders. Her lips land on his. She tastes of the lake, and the chocolate she ate before, and of Erin. He leans down to kiss her, trying to get a better grip on her wet skin, but almost drops her when she feels her hand cup him under his swimming suit.

"Why do I have a feeling I'm about to find out," he says with a groan, but doesn't really mind when pushes his swimsuit down and eases herself on him, enjoying the sudden feeling of pleasure washing through him.

"Just don't drop me," she whispers, and he thinks he has never seen anything as erotic as Erin letting go of every inhibition she has. She swallows hard when her head falls back, and his lips capture the tiny drops of water on her neck, travelling down to her breasts. He fills his hands and his mouth with her—drinking her like a thirsty man in a desert, until he can't hold it back anymore.

He buries his head in the crook of her neck, and vaguely registers her whispering something—what, he'll never know, because his senses are overwhelmed with pleasure, and with _her._ He manages one more thrust, and he thinks that maybe she won't make it with him, but then he feels her shiver and shatter in his arms, and he just wraps his arms tighter against her, holding her close.

She cuddles against him, unable to do much else but rest her head on his shoulder and hum with satisfaction.

"That was worth the poison ivy," she murmurs, and he chuckles. He definitely agrees.

* * *

"I love how quiet it is," she admits. It's one of the things that sold her on this place, along with the perfect little cabin, big enough for just the two of them. "I can hear my thoughts."

"Yeah," he agrees. "It helped me when I got back. Everything was too much, I was in sensory overload, and I wasn't coping with it well. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't live. That's when I came here."

She looks up at him. It's their last night in the cabin, and they've decided to make a fire in the pit, the night air being just chilly enough for it not to be too hot. There is a difference between the summer here and summer in the city, she thinks, remembering the heat that lingers long after the sun goes down. But here, the nights are not as hot as the days.

They're lounging on the padded bench, talking, and in his comfort, he shares more than he has before. She wonders if he knows that this is the most he's told her about his time after he got back from the army. Words don't come out, mostly because she's afraid to say anything that will make him close back up.

"The quiet helped."

"Thanks for sharing this place with me," she whispers, finding his hand, thinking about how she could have used the quiet back when Nadia died, and everything was too much and she just wanted to dull everything. How she could have used him, and instead she pushed him as far away as she could. How lucky she is that he forgave her for not having his back—a mistake she does not intent to repeat, ever.

She's happy he's had a place like that—still does and grateful that he decided to share his safe place with her, and let her in some more in the process.

"I love coming up here with you. Seeing all your city girl attitude," he says with a wink, dodging a shoulder smack. But she's not about to let him evade so easily.

"You almost never talk about it," she states matter-of-factly. She gets up from her lying position. "It's important to me that you know you can."

"I do. But really, sometimes talking about it makes it worse. Mostly, I just try to forget about it."

"Does being here bring back bad memories?"

"No. Usually just the ones we made. Some childhood memories as well."

She nods, a slight blush colouring her cheeks, because of the nature of those first memories he mentioned. But still, it's difficult for her to admit that most of the time she sees him struggling, she doesn't know what to do. Even after reading dozens of articles online about how to help a veteran struggling with PTSD, she still doesn't have any answers, but she makes sure that she doesn't push, and that she reminds him often that she's here if he needs to talk.

He can apparently see her mind going, because he slips his hand into hers. "Hey, I'm doing well for now, but if it gets rough I know you'll have my back."

"Always. That's all I want. For you to know I'm here for anything you need. You don't have to hide, or try to be perfect for me. I love you. All of you." _For better of worse._

"I do know. I promise." He presses a kiss on her forehead, pulling her where she belongs—safely tucked into his arms, where nothing can harm either of them. It's the end of this conversation, she knows, and she won't push it further, because as much as she wants to know how he feels, she also wants it has to happen at the pace he's comfortable with, and him knowing she's here is really all she can ask for.

Even though these getaways usually only last a couple of days or the weekend, it feels good to get away from the noise of the city. To take the time to remind themselves of the love they have for each other, and that it's worth fighting for during the bad times. And to just get lost in each other, which is something they can't always do, when they're on call all the time.

"I love that you can see all the stars here," she murmurs, settling herself comfortably in his arms. "I miss it in the city."

"Yeah. Makes you feel small. Everything just sort of fades away."

"Not everything," she murmurs with so much love in her voice that it makes him chuckle.

"No. Not everything," he agrees. "Not you." _Never you._ He doesn't say it out loud, but she has been his one constant in these past couple of years, and even when it was hard, and though, even when she left, her presence in his life is so potent, that it never truly fades. "You know my mom used to say the same thing. She loved coming here, because she said she could always remember what's important here. Like the irrelevant things faded away and all the important ones remained."

"You mom was a smart woman. I'm sad I'll never get to meet her."

"She would have absolutely doted on you."

"You think?"

"You make me happy, so yes. She would have loved you for that alone. But she would have loved you for the strong woman you are as well."

"Our kids really won't have any grandparents," she ponders out loud, unaware of the storm happening inside him when she says it.

"I'm sure Voight will spoil them rotten," he replies, trying to compose himself. "Like he did with Danny."

"True." She laughs. "I surprised the living hell out of you, didn't I?" She laughs now, because though he tried to hide it, his shocked expression tells her everything she needs to know. Sometimes he tries to act with her, forgetting she knows him better than anyone else. They haven't talked about it much in the past, but lately she's found herself thinking about the future. And the picture is a lot different than it used to be.

"A little bit, yeah," he admits. "We just never really talk about the future. But I want that. With you. I want a family." He wants everything. Kids, the house with a white picket fence and three dogs running around the yard. He wants to have Sunday family lunches, play with his kids, and make love to her at night.

"I do too," she tells him. "In case you didn't know. Or didn't want to ask." She never wanted it before, but she understands now, it was never about the right time. It was about finding that right person—the person she'll want to wake up to every morning. She hasn't seen that future for herself before—that kind of life where you pack lunch for your kids before kissing your husband and heading to work But she knows now, after all this time, it's him.

"A girl, as brave as her mom," he imagines, smiling.

"No," she cuts him off, "a boy, with blue eyes and freckles."

Their voices echo in the silent night, and as they continue planning their future together, she realizes one thing. A while ago, her future seemed dark and uncertain, but she knows one thing for sure, if she's with him there will be no shortage of happiness in her life. And even the stars fade in comparison to how bright that thought is.


	24. Vest

**A/N: Almost half way through the list! Thanks to everyone who's still reading and leaving reviews. I love writing these prompts, and it means a lot that you're still enjoying it.**

 **Let me know what you think!**

* * *

 ** _Prompt #23: Vest - She could never get it on quite right. That's why she had him._**

Word count: 1,345

* * *

His words echo in her mind as clearly as if it were yesterday.

 _No, it's just the last time I'm gonna help you get it on right._

She shrugged it off then—didn't show him in that moment how those words made her feel. How it overwhelmed her with a feeling that she could almost describe as grief, thinking about how she was losing him as a partner. How she wondered if he'd stay in her life, despite them not working together anymore. If maybe this was finally their chance to stop making excuses and give _one day_ a try. And how she wondered then, how it would be, to finally give into their passion without anything holding them back, without any guilty pleasure.

It didn't end up being the last time he helped her put on her vest. Only that now, one day is here, and she can't feel the same. Not when she knows his hands—not when his hands know her body. Not when his fingers linger on her hip just a moment too long—not enough for anyone to notice, but long enough to be noticed by her.

He brushes her hair away gently and readjusts the strap on her shoulder to fit her perfectly as he has countless times before. She shivers, letting out a sharp exhale at the sudden electricity she feels where his skin touches hers. It's always been there—the spark—but now it's even more present, even more noticeable. If they're going to do this, they're going to have to be careful not to give it away.

He smirks, knowing just what she's feeling, because he feels it too. He finishes adjusting her vest, and she turns to do the same for him, shaking the thoughts haunting her mind. There will be plenty of time for that later. Right now, they have a suspect to catch.

Hours later, she watches him slide his vest off. The op ended up being a success, and they apprehended a dangerous drug dealer. It's always a rush, getting a criminal off the streets, and as always, her mind was focused on the task at hand, until the adrenaline was replaced by a different kind of rush.

This thing between them is so fresh, so new, that it surprises her how much she wants him still. After all she's had him, more than once, almost every night now. But as she watches him put his vest away, she realizes the adrenaline serves as some wicked way of foreplay. It takes everything for her not to pull him into the locker room for a hot minute. He glances at her, and she knows he's having the same thought.

"Later," he murmurs, and she nods, heading into the bullpen to complete the paperwork that goes with the arrest, knowing that the anticipation of what's coming will make it even sweeter.

* * *

"Hey, talk to me," he murmurs, helping her slide off the vest. He pales at the sight of a bullet lodged firmly in the vest—pales at the thought of what could have happened.

"I'm okay, Jay."

The unit is also putting down their gear around them, all them quiet. Even Ruzek isn't messing around like usually. Everyone is affected by the close call. It's one of the rare moments when they just don't care who sees them, or if it's too much public display of affection for the work place. He pulls her against him, pressing a gentle kiss against her temple, allowing her to close her eyes and for a second there is no unit around them, there is no boss standing at the door watching, and there is no work place. There is just them, realizing how once again they got lucky.

Because yes, she was okay, despite the fact his heart stopped when he heard the shot and saw her on the floor. It's beyond him, how he managed to shoot back and then kneel down to fumble with her vest, and realizing it didn't go through. There was no blood, and the only reason she was down, was because the bullet was fast enough to knock her out of breath.

So yes, he hugs her. He would hug her in from of anyone, and if somebody has a problem with that, he just doesn't give a damn.

He places the vest in question on a desk carefully, his eyes darting to her torso, where he suspects he'll later find a bruise that's about the only proof of how much of a close call this was. "I'm having this framed."

Feeling grateful for her partner, she presses her lips to his cheek. She hears Hank in the background, something about how they all did good work, and to not come in the next day before 9. She smiles. "Let's go home," she tells Jay, and loves how he sneaks his arms around her waist so they can walk to the car together.

* * *

"How the fuck do these buttons work?" He mutters to nobody in particular, because in this exact moment he's by himself, trying to put a different kind of vest on. The one he's not used to putting on very often. That's when he hears a familiar chuckle behind him and turns.

It takes his breath away.

She's not completely ready yet—neither is he—but she's dressed and her hair is done, and he suddenly feels like a very lucky guy. Then he panics.

"You're not supposed to be here! It's bad luck!"

She laughs, stepping closer, and places her hand on his chest. "Relax, it's not like I'm going to change my mind."

"I hope not."

"I just wanted a moment with you, before heading out there," she admits. "I wanted to make sure you had no cold feet." He scoffs as an answer, causing her to smile even more. Between the two of them, he is the one who walked around with a box in his pocket for weeks, before choosing the right moment. She never considered herself marriage material, but he made some very convincing arguments. "You look very handsome," she teases with a smile.

"And I don't even have words to express how beautiful you are." He leans forward to brush his lips against hers briefly and softly. "Future Mrs. Halstead." The slight stubble on his face brushes sharply against her skin, but it's how she likes it.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this." But the truth is, she just let him believe he had to talk her into it. The truth is, her heart jumped out of her chest when he finally asked her. The truth is, she can't wait to be his wife. In a rare moment of cheesiness, she beams up at him, her eyes shining with tears. "I love you."

"And I love you."

"Now let me help you with this, after all that's what partners are for, and I have experience putting vests on you." She winks, helping him button the classic black vest, remembering the time when they were helping each other with the bulletproof ones. They were different kind of partners too back then, though not less important. Erin is perfectly happy that their romantic partnership is rooted in friendship, and professional partnership. It makes their relationship that much stronger.

"There," she says when she finishes, smoothing down the surface, adjusting his bow. He does look like the epitome of handsome, she thinks—the dark fabric of the tux creating a startling contrast to the white shirt. "Handsome." She murmurs longingly. "Mine."

He smiles back. "I can't wait to marry you."

"I can't wait to be married to you," she whispers back. She smiles that wonderful smile of hers that makes him think the sun is in the room with him, pressing a last kiss on his cheek, before turning to leave.

"I'll see you out there," he calls after her, not a bit disappointed by the very traditional answer he gets in return.

"I'll be the one in white."


	25. Trust

**A/N: I'm here again, spoiling you. :D But to be fair, you spoil me with reviews all the time, so you deserve it. You're the best, and please keep leaving them, because I assure you nothing feeds my muse as much as a nice long review.**

 **This is based off 3x01 and briefly references a moment from another 50tl fic - Hands. I guess if you want to read it in order, you read the first part of this fic, then Hands, and then the rest of it haha. But really you can read it in any order, and it's not as relevant, only so you know what Jay is thinking about when thinking about the hospital apology.**

* * *

 ** _Prompt #24: Trust - He trusted her with his life._ **

Word count: 2,350

* * *

The worst thing is when he thinks he'll never see her again.

He still sees her in his mind when he goes to that place he needs to go, to withstand the continuous torture. He sees her, the way she was, before any of this started. Before Yates, before Nadia. He sees her happy, laughing at something he said. The memories painfully play out in his head. Perhaps it's because he's preparing for death, because with every second that goes by he doubts they'll get there in time.

And so, he thinks of his partner. He wonders if he pushed hard enough, if he gave her enough of a reason to get out of that dark hole she has slipped into. He barely registers the real pain anymore, because these memories, and the thought of never seeing her again hurt much, much more than any bruise or broken bone ever will.

When he's conscious he catches some of the conversation. _A female courier._ His mind involuntarily thinks of her. Because of any of this had happened weeks ago, he knows Erin would be volunteering to come in. And he'd have trusted her with his life anytime. But she's made it clear she doesn't care anymore, so he wonders who they'll send in. Burgess is the next clear choice, but he's sure Ruzek will be reluctant to send her in.

The truth is, it's way too dangerous to send anyone in. Jay knows that they won't risk their CI files getting into the wrong hands, so at the very best they'll kill him when they find out they have the fakes.

His eyes feel heavy, and he drifts for a while, getting nudged back to consciousness by someone pulling him up. He pushes him into the room, and his heart does this weird thing, where it's incredibly sad at once, because she's here, and they'll likely both get killed, but also rejoicing with happiness because she's here, and he gets to see her one more time.

"Jay," she all but whispers when she sees him.

She looks a little better than she has when he last saw her hours ago that morning, when he tried to convince her to come back to work. A little less drugged. They push him on the couch, and she's with him in a second—her hands gentle on his bruised skin as she pulls of the duct tape keeping him quiet.

"It's okay," she tells him, and her words feel like a lighthouse on a story night, and for a split second he believes her. Then the reality sets in.

"Erin," he says, because he can finally speak again, and because if that's the last word he says, he wants it to be her name. He wants her face to be the last thing to see, but he doesn't find the fightless expression in her eyes—the one he saw that morning, and expected to find now. He sees a warrior; a woman that will do anything to get them out of there, using her bare hands if she has to. He sees something else, something he doesn't really have the time to fully process, but there is guilt, gentleness, and love. So much love. As if she wanted to convey all that with a single look, just in case they don't make it.

"All right, we're getting out of here."

And in that moment, he thanks God that it was her that they sent in. That it was her that came for him.

"Hold up. Ain't no way, either one of you is walking out of here." They look at the barrel of the gun. "Not until these files check out."

She stands up, and he looks at the empty place she used to occupy, knowing by her posture that he was right. The files are fake and they're both getting shot, or worse, when they find out. He closes his eyes as Erin talks to the leader, and then stands up. That's when he sees it, the small knife when she readjusts her shirt. She's getting ready for a fight.

"I'm done making calls. Do him first. And make her watch."

She walks to him instantly, her arms reaching to hold him up. "Come here," she says, her voice filled with panic as they drag him away from her. "Alright. Okay."

Then a split second later she's in full on fight mode, and he proves that they're still partners, joining her almost simultaneously. It doesn't matter that he's tired, and bruised, and battered. All it matters is getting out of there, possibly alive.

He fights with the last strength that he has, hearing his girl gut the other guy with that tiny knife, and though he's pretty much on the floor getting beaten up by that point, he still feels pride.

Everything happens more quickly than he's able to comprehend, because he trips the leader, and suddenly Erin is standing there with a gun, pointing at him, telling him he's under arrest.

He knows it's not the time or the place to think about that, but she looks dangerously beautiful—like a tigress, hungry for blood. Almost elegant in all that unapologetic anger boiling to the surface. The leader's eyes go for the gun, and she looks at him with that _please-give-me-a-reason_ look, and before he can really go for it, she empties the gun into him. Five bullets in the addition of the one already in him, and she doesn't even flinch.

They hear backup outside, so she goes to open the door to let the guys in, and when she does, she doesn't really come back, so the guys take him to the EMT outside, and he wonders if that was it. If she'd just leave again, without saying a word after what they just went through.

Then she's there, covered in blood, and he finally has a chance to fully take her in. Her tired eyes, the dark circles around them, and the pale skin, covered in sweat. Some of it is probably from the fighting, and yet he's sure some of it are the drugs leaving her system.

Approaching slowly, he thinks she'll come closer, but she stops. "You okay?"

He looks at her for what seems the longest second in the world. He has so much he wants to say to her. Yell at her for leaving, thank her for saving his life, tell her he loves her, but he doesn't.

"I'm just glad that it was you that they sent in."

He hopes it successfully conveys everything he's feeling, and that despite everything, he's glad she was the one to save him. And that he's grateful that she came back for him.

And then she looks at him the same way, all the things unsaid showing in her eyes, on her face. And she might as well have said them out loud, because he knows her enough to know exactly what she's not saying.

"I gotta go wash this off," she tells him, before turning away slowly. His eyes turn to the ground, because he can't watch her leave again. He wonders if he'll ever see her again.

* * *

He's back at his place, with a thousand directions from his doctor, and a thousand more from Will, but all he wants to do is sleep off this tiredness. He struts heavily to the fridge, groaning when he realizes he has no beer left.

Somebody is at the door, and he groans internally even lounder, barely getting himself to open it. If somebody would come to kill him, he'd probably just let them, because he has no more fight left in him. But it's his partner standing on the doorstep, and despite his tiredness, she's the one person he's glad to see.

The first thing he notices is how good she looks. Clean. The second thing he notices is the food container she's holding.

"Ruzek mentioned you were being discharged today, so I wanted to stop by."

"Come in."

He motions her to step inside, pretty sure his nosy neighbour is already by the door, listening to their conversation. There is this awkwardness between them that he's not sure has ever been there before. He thinks back to when she came to see him in the hospital, to apologize. It seemed that they left things considerably well, but he was pretty high from the pain medication, and he can only vaguely remember her hand in his.

"You didn't bring any beer, by any chance?" He asks to defuse the tense situation, and she shakes her head apologetically.

"Sorry. I'm kinda off all the substances for a while. Including alcohol."

He nods in understanding, kicking himself for even asking. "Do you have to leave, or will you eat with me?"

"Uh, sure," she replies, even though she looks anything but sure. "Let me just text Hank real quick."

"Keeping you on a short leash, is he?"

"Can't really blame him," she murmurs, her fingers moving fast over her phone. Minutes later, Jay gets a phone call from his boss, and he learns on just how short Erin's leash is. But she's smiling for the first time in weeks, so he assures Voight she's there, and she'll be home after they eat and talk. "I feel like a teenager again," she adds when he hangs up, making him chuckle. They move to the couch to eat, because Jay is still too sore to sit on anything too hard, and he wonders what's really the purpose of her visit.

They mostly eat in silence, until he finally asks, and her eyes dart to the floor with a guilty expression.

"I wanted to clear the air," she starts reluctantly. "I'm back, like I said at the hospital. And soon you'll be back. When this all heals up," she murmurs, touching his face with a feather-light touch. "I know I haven't been a great partner, so I just wanted to let you know I'll understand if you want to ride with somebody else from now on. I'd understand if you didn't trust me anymore." She looks like these words are breaking her, one by one, so he reaches out his hand, stroking her cheek gently.

"Erin. You're my partner. I trust you with my life."

"I'd still understand."

" _You_ are my partner. I don't want anyone else." How could he, when all he's done for the past couple of weeks is waiting for her to come back.

She nods, not replying, but her eyes look at him with all the pain and the guilt she's still feeling over what happened. Her beautiful eyes fill with salt and water as she tries to hold the flood back the best she can. "I also wanted to say I'm sorry."

"You already apologized," he reminds her, remembering their short hospital conversation, in which she apologized so brokenly, and so sincerely, he never stood a chance. He forgave her in the second the words were uttered, or maybe even before—when she apologized with her eyes at the EMT vehicle. "It's okay."

"No, it's really not okay. I could have lost you."

Then she's crying in his arms, and he's happy that she is, because she didn't cry nearly enough after Nadia died, and it means she is dealing with her feelings now. Crying means she's not bottling it inside. And if he gets to hold her while she does it, he doesn't mind a bit.

Between sobs she tells him how scared she was, and how her world shattered when Al called her and told her about him being taken (he makes a mental note to thank Al at some point). He brushes her hair from her wet face, stroking her back soothingly.

"I don't deserve you. I don't deserve your comfort."

"Stop that. You will always have me, no matter what. Isn't that what we promised? To always have each other's backs?"

"Not that I held up my part of the bargain."

"I think you did just that in there. I don't think I've ever seen anyone fight like you did."

"I had to. They were gonna kill you. I couldn't let that happen."

There is finality in her words, as in she'd do whatever it took. And he knows she's telling the truth, that she'd rather die in there trying, than let anything happen to him. "We made quite a team in there," she finally speaks, trying to ease the tension, and he chuckles.

"That we did. It's nice to know some things never change."

She nods absentmindedly, as if she's thinking about something else. "So we're good?"

It's his time to nod, squeezing her hand with reassurance. "We're good."

"Thank god. I was afraid I'd pushed you too far away."

"Never."

"I'll let you go to sleep," she says, noticing his tiredness. She stands up somewhat reluctantly, and he wishes nothing more than being able to cuddle against her in his bed. Maybe at some point they can revisit that conversation as well, but for now, he's content with them clearing the air. "Call if you need anything. And I mean anything," she instructs bossily.

"Noted." He walks her out, and before she's out the door, her arms are wrapped around him in a long-overdue, but a very painful hug. When he flinches, she softens the hug immediately, but doesn't let go—which he's thankful for. He tries to burn every second of it to memory, so he has something good to dream about.

"Good night," he wishes her, and she touches her lips against his cheek.

"Night," she replies, before turning away and walking out the door. "Partner."

Long after she leaves, he lets his mouth spread into a wide grin. Because nothing compares to the fact that he got a second chance at life, and his partner back by his side. And suddenly, he doesn't even feel tired anymore. He feels like the world is his for the taking, as long as she's by his side to take it with him.


	26. Sex

**A/N: WE'RE HALF WAY THROUGH. I may actually believe I'll make it to 50 haha. I wanted to do something different, so I hope you like this. Please let me know because I'm a nervous wreck about this one.** **Thank you for all your reviews and support, and without further talking …**

* * *

 _ **Prompt #25: Sex. - It was good. No, it was earth-shattering.** _

Word count: 3,243

* * *

She never knew there was such a thing as too much sex, until she got into bed with him.

Sex has always been a weird subject to her, since she's been introduced to the world fairly early on. It shames her to admit that in her early years she often used it as a tool to get what she wanted. But she's come to enjoy it later on in her life, realizing it could indeed bring pleasure if you were engaging in it with the right person and in the right way.

But what she was not prepared for, apparently, was Jay Halstead.

At least that's what she keeps telling herself as she waits for her doctor to come back with the results, of what Erin already figured out is a very painful UTI.

"There could be a variety of reasons for this infection," the doctor tells her. She asks a couple of personal questions, taking notes. "Any sexual activity in the past couple of days?"

"Uhm, yes."

"How much?"

"3 or 4 times," she admits, recalling last night.

"Per week?" Now that makes Erin blush fiercely.

"Per night." Now she has it, for not being able to keep her hands off of him since this thing between them started that night.

"That's your likely reason then." She explains all about how the bacteria spreads. "I advise against sex for the duration of the antibiotics. When your symptoms disappear completely, and you are off antibiotics, you're in the clear. You don't want to get a second infection. You'll get a prescription when the culture comes back, so we know what kind of bacteria you have."

"Okay."

"Meanwhile I suggest lots of fluids. A heat pad to ease the pain."

She nods knowingly, but it's not that she ever had one before, so she isn't really prepared for the discomfort, or the shame that overwhelms her when she even thinks about it. So, she packs up on cranberry juice and analgesics, ditching all the calls from the unit, and Jay in particular. She shoots out a text to Hank that a medical situation came up, and she'd be back to work tomorrow, because she just can't interrogate a suspect with a painful bladder. Hopefully she'll be feeling better soon.

Then she curls up on her couch with a gallon of water, knowing she'd be making frequent trips to the bathroom.

* * *

She's dodging his calls and his texts. It takes him by surprise, because the last couple of nights have been going ridiculously well, and he has no idea what has changed. Just last night he spent a night at her place, and they watched a movie, or well half of it, before she distracted him with her hands, which ended up with them in bed.

He is beginning to get worried that he somehow managed to fuck things up, and not to make a big deal out of it, but he is freaking out just a little bit.

 _Can we talk? -J_

The happiness of finally being able to be together is replaced by worry. He was certain she felt the same way. He held her in his arms, and he was so sure they were on the same page regarding this, and now he has to face the reality that maybe they were not; that maybe it wasn't mutual.

And Jay does not like this feeling at all.

* * *

She should have known he'd show up, even though she's avoided every single call and text. It was something so embarrassing and personal that she couldn't let herself share, not even with her partner of a couple years. Not when they've just recently gotten together.

But he's there, looking all worried, and she does feel bad for him. And he looks damn cute when he's worried too.

"What's going on?" He glances at her pjs, and her messed up hair, and he figures she's been in bed for the better part of the afternoon. "Are you sick?"

"In a way," she admits partially, and he pushes his way into her apartment.

"Talk to me, Erin."

"I can't, Jay. Not about this. It's too personal."

"Bullshit. What's going on?"

She mumbles something incomprehensible that has him asking to repeat it.

"I have a UTI," she replies, clearly this time, but obviously mortified.

"Just assume I'm clueless about it and explain it to me," he asks, allowing her to settle on the couch.

"It's an infection women can get." She keeps it vague, but knows she'll have to get it out eventually, as he doesn't show any sign of leaving until she does. "It can be caused by a lot of things. One of them being too much sex apparently."

"Oh." He seems lost for words, and she gets it. This, whatever it is, between them just got very real very fast. He looks a little smug, and that is something she wasn't expecting, so she mock punches his shoulder.

"You're gloating!"

"You just told me I sexed you up so much you got an UTI. Can't help but be a little proud."

"Ugh!" The next hit he gets isn't mocking anymore, and he winces in pain. She really does have a good swing going for her. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry." He chuckles, and his shoulders relax when she smiles back, obviously realizing his joke was only meant to ease the awkwardness of the situation. "And really I am sorry you're in pain because of this. It's not exactly a consequence a guy goes for, when having sex with someone, trust me. But I still don't understand why you thought you couldn't tell me."

"It's just embarrassing." The same reason you don't send the guy you occasionally slip into bed with for tampons (no matter how good those slips into bed are).

"But you don't have to be embarrassed about it. Especially because I'm part of the reason you're like this."

"I know. I'm a lousy patient. Can we just write it up to that?"

"Sure." He smiles down at her. "Something to do with your childhood?"

"Let's just say, Bunny usually made me feel guilty for being sick, because she had to stay home, so somebody taking care of me is still a weird concept."

He nods. "Do you need to go to the doctor? Need me to get you any medication?"

"I've already been, so no. Just hold on a second, cause I really have to go to the bathroom."

He nods, letting her stand up, shooting a quick text out.

When she comes back, he's gone, and her face falls pretty fast. She really can't understand why he'd say one thing and do another, but she goes to curl up on the couch, not expecting him to be back in ten minutes. But he is, and he's holding pizza (which he knows to be her comfort food) and cranberry juice.

"You didn't have to do this."

"Yes, I did. Consider it an apology for giving you a UTI." She wants to jump in, saying that he technically didn't give it to her, because it's not an STD, but she shuts up noticing another detail.

"How did you know about the cranberry juice?" She just notices the bottle he's placed on the counter.

"I asked my brother."

"What? You told your brother, who I've never met, that I have a UTI?" She looks pretty upset, and he doesn't want to upset her anymore.

"He's a doctor."

"Unbelievable. That'll be a great first impression," she mutters, sulking all of the sudden. "So what else did he say?"

"Cranberry juice and lots of cuddles." She gives him a look—the one with raised eyebrows and all—until he amends his former statement. "Okay that last part was me. I just can't take you being in any kind of pain," he admits, nuzzling into her neck. "I just need you to know this isn't some friends-with-benefits thing for me. It's more."

She nods, cuddling closer. "Yes, it is." They put it out there for the first time since that talk they had in the break room when they thought she was leaving for six months. And it's funny, because these moments in relationships, when something shifts and it becomes more serious or fades away usually scare the shit out of her, and she tends to avoid them like plague, but now, the words _Yes, it is_ slip from her tongue willingly, not at all forcibly.

She realizes that she doesn't mind, because she's known this is more than just sex from the moment it happened, and even though the sex is great—earth-shattering, mind-blowing really, it's not all it is. Erin is actually half convinced that the sex is as great as it is, because they share a deeper connection.

"And there are so many other things we can do, even if we can't have sex. I can take care of you. I'm reportedly very good at it."

"Says who?"

"My ex-girlfriends."

"Cocky much?" She asks, still sulking.

"We can talk. Maybe play 20 questions. Or Scrabble."

"Stop! Playing Scrabble with you is what got me in this mess. Besides it's not fair, because it's making me want you and I can't have you."

"I know. I'm irresistible."

"You're mostly cocky."

"You still want me, cocky and all," he teases, causing her to roll her eyes back.

"Yes. I can't explain it, but for some reason I do." She knows very well it's just a part of his charm, and she's not really upset at him for messing around. It's already a weird situation, and she doesn't want it to be weirder. "You start."

It takes him a second to realize she means the questions. "Okay. Does it hurt?"

"A bit. I took a mild painkiller. It's mostly annoying and uncomfortable." He stands when it's her turn, walking to the kitchen, bringing back a fresh glass of water and a heating pad. She whimpers when it touches her lower stomach because of how good it feels. He drags the cover over her, and finds a comfortable position on the couch next to her.

"Who taught you to drive?" She asks curiously. "Because those stops are horrendous."

"My dad did."

She frowns at that. "I thought you didn't get along."

"We don't. He taught both of us with Will—not that he was patient or anything, though Will was apparently a natural at it, and I was the disappointment." She gathers that this is how is always used to be with them, and wonders how it's possible that he remained so kind and so wonderful, bearing no resentments towards his brother, who was obviously the favourite.

"Does it bother you that I drive all the time?" She asks softly, curious about his answer.

"It's my turn." His eyes flicker to her hands. "What colour nail polish do you like wearing most?"

The question takes her by surprise, and she shows it by raising her eyebrows. He chuckles, pointing at her blue fingernails. "It's a part of you. I want to know."

She shrugs. "Dark red. It was the first nail polish I ever owned. Camille got me one. It wasn't exactly on my list of priorities when we had no food on the table." He frowns, thinking about all the things she didn't have that others take for granted. "My turn again. Does it bother you that I drive all the time?"

It seems as if it genuinely concerns her.

"It used to. But not anymore." It would be nice if she let him take the wheel once in a while, but he doesn't complain about it further, and she takes the answer. "Where did you get this scar? I was meaning to ask you about it for some time now." He strokes his finger over a spot on her neck, just under her left ear.

"Bunny was high. She pushed me, I fell and hit the coffee table." She doesn't tell him she needed three stitches. That the glass coffee table shattered from the force with which she hit it.

"Sorry. If I ask something you don't want to answer, feel free to refuse."

"It's fine. You know most of it anyway."

She has shared most of it because she had to, but also because she wanted it. When the whole Charlie thing happened a few months ago, her partner was supportive and not too intrusive. But he made sure she knew he had her back, and after he dropped by one time and they watched sitcom re-runs on tv with Nadia, who fell asleep on the couch, she told him most of what her life was like back then.

He has seen her file anyway. Knowing he knew about the charges back then made her more ashamed than she thought possible. Especially, because it's been years since her past has come to haunt her, and Jay finding her CI file that day took her by surprise. He took it like a champ too, back when she spilled it. Listened carefully, but didn't make that judging face she half expected him to make. It was a reaction worthy of the man she knows he is.

And really, every time she doubts him, he ends up coming through, so maybe one of these days she'll just learn to really trust him. Especially because he keeps giving her reasons to. Like the fact she falls asleep sometime after bathroom break #3 and question #8 and wakes up in her bed, tucked in nicely with all the lights off at some point in the middle of the night. She happy to feel his body next to hers, his steady breaths lulling her right back, so she curls up against him wondering what she ever did right to deserve a boyfriend like Jay Halstead.

* * *

He doesn't really mention her situation again, clearly knowing that it's more than mortifying for her. But his care shows in the little things, like how he covers for her at work, so she can slip to the bathroom more often without everyone wondering what she's up to, or how he keeps extra bottles of water in the car, or how he doesn't let her drink too much coffee, because he googled it, and it's bad for her right now.

The truth is, Erin never had a boyfriend like that—that wasn't only for making those lonely nights less unbearable, but actually stayed when things got tough sometimes. That was there for the not-so-glamorous moments of her life. She never got this routine, so it shakes the ground beneath her slightly. What shakes her ever further is how much he knows her. So much, he gives her space without even asking, without her having to tell him.

And that is why she shows up at his place unannounced with a giant pizza and without regrets. Whether they wanted it or not, their relationship just got slammed on the ground. It seems to her they both passed this test with flying colours and deserved to celebrate.

His grin when he opens the door is totally worth it, and the pizza she places on the counter in the kitchen is momentarily forgotten as their lips slam together for a long overdue kiss. He deepens it lazily, and lacking the urgency their lips usually meet with, he slowly slips his tongue into her mouth.

The small sound she lets out makes him grin into her mouth even further, pulling away to be able to truly appreciate her smiling face and his favourite dimples.

"This is a nice surprise," he starts, pointing to the pizza and then to her body, still wrapped into his arms.

"I appreciate you giving me some space this past couple of days. And I also appreciate you taking care of me, even though I might now always show it. And thank you for not making this awkward situation any worse."

He traces her skin, making his way along the perfect cheekbone, then cupping her face with both hands. She smells like spring, hope, comfort—warm and cosy under his fingertips and he wouldn't have it any other way.

"You're welcome." He accepts her declaration quickly, knowing it must've cost her quite some pride to get those words out. Their eyes lock together, and he finds himself longing, craving to touch her. It's only been two weeks. What kind of monster did she create?

Judging by the mischievous smile she shoots at him, she's having identical thoughts, and his hands reach for her before she can say or do anything. She groans at the feeling of his fingers stroking her in all the right places.

"Can we? I mean?"

"All good," she confirms, and finds herself pressed against the nearest wall with his tongue in her mouth. His hands find her bottom, lifting her up, and she responds by wrapping her legs tightly around him, pressing the centre of her body against his growing erection. Now it's his turn to groan.

His bedroom is not far from the kitchen, but in this instance, it's not close enough. Neither is the couch for that matter, and the next horizontal surface he finds just happens to be the kitchen counter.

It's a shame, really, but she doesn't even take the time to appreciate the blue Henley, instead pulling it over his head so she can appreciate the muscles underneath, but really, they don't really appreciate much of each other this time. It's more of a frenzied blur of need and desire and hurry and clothes being removed by awkwardly tugging at them until they come off.

She slides a hand down between them and closes it around him. "Fuck, Erin." She smiles at the helpless gasp he lets out, applying more pressure. Jay grits his teeth, dropping his head against her warm skin, as he throbs in her grip. A low, raspy chuckle escapes her. She just really wants him inside her. Now. Even thinking about it gets her panties soaked.

Her moans turn into hums of approval, when he pulls off the only piece of fabric that's still separating them and pushes inside her—hot, wet and waiting for him. Her head falls back as he pulls her closer to him, sliding her butt forward on the counter so he can go deeper.

And then it's just a mindless race towards that brink and a reckless plunge over it as her body shakes in waves of pleasure, and her moan is enough to push him over as well. He buries his head into the crook of her neck and doesn't move until she brings him back to this world slowly, with gentle strokes on his lower back.

The words get stuck in her throat, everything she wants to say too sappy, too cheesy, too real to utter out loud. So she cracks a grin, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek. "Almost worth the UTI, huh?"

He chuckles, as expected, and they both shrug it off, especially when he recovers a few minutes later, carrying her naked warm body to the bed, where he can pay it the attention it deserves.

But they both know something has changed. This was a step forward in their relationship, and she finds herself looking forward to all that are yet to come. After all, relationships take effort, and she just found a guy who is more than worth it.

 **Don't forget to review xo**


	27. Hope

**A/N: I don't have anything to say really. Enjoy and let me now if you like it.**

* * *

 ** _Prompt #26: Hope - He always had hope, even when she didn't give him any reason to have any._ **

Word count: 1,768

* * *

A couple of days after Nadia's memorial, Jay thinks the worst feeling in the world is seeing the person you love hurting, but not being able to do anything about it. Watching his partner go through a spiral like Erin is at the moment, it takes its toll on him. On everyone it seems.

He's never seen the unit so tense, as Voight makes calls, and they're trying to figure out if Erin is the one they said they would "take care of". Honestly, Jay can't even think about what that could mean. He knows, but he can't think about it. Because losing Erin is such a terrifying thought, he's not willing to entertain it—not even for a second.

When they enter her apartment, Kevin has it under control. Erin looks unravelled, holding a wet cloth to some guy's head. It doesn't take a genius to figure out he's not one of the bad guys, so he must've been here with her, when they ambushed her.

She stands to face him, her eyes locking with his as he lowers his weapon.

"Had us worried there for a sec," he manages, trying not to show any of the emotions bubbling inside him. Because he's a little bit of everything right now—worried, angry, confused. But mostly worried, because she looks like she hasn't slept in days, and he can't deny the fact that she is not dealing with her grief in a constructive way. He can't think of any more ways to help her.

He has tried to be there for her, has reached out more than a few times, but she's just not listening. Or if she is, maybe she just doesn't care anymore.

But he cares. Because he can physically feel her slipping through his fingers, and he does not like that feeling.

And right now, he would forget all of it, even the guy he knows she screwed to get over Nadia's death, who is currently in the room with them. He'd forget all the snappy exchanges and crude words between them lately, and her pushing him away, if he could wrap his arms around her and make it okay. Even just for a second.

But there is no hugging, and there is no Erin the next time he comes to work after that, and the day after that. When he finally musters the courage to ask Voight, he barks at him to stop asking stupid questions, but softens his voice slightly to inform Jay that Erin has turned in her badge so she can drink herself away in Bunny's company, and that he's put her on furlough, but unless she comes around in the next three weeks, he can't do anything about it.

"She's chosen the path she wants to take," he says to finish the conversation, before he turns around and retreats to his office. And for a little while, Jay's hope falters, because how can he still believe that she is coming back, when not even the person who raised her does anymore.

The bullpen is awfully quiet that day, all of them contemplating life without Erin Lindsay in it. The world already seems sadder and darker. Gloomy. Empty. A life Jay doesn't want.

At least not without a fight.

* * *

"I'm sorry," he apologizes to Mouse, who's drinking his beer in silence next to him. "I know I'm not much of a company today."

"Hey, no worries," his friend tells him, making Jay certain that he's the only person who could ever be around him right now. He feels toxic, like his bad mood will somehow poison everyone around him. "If you want, I could, you know, find her for you?"

Erin has been off the grid for much of the past few days. Jay has tried to stop by her place several times, but either she was staying somewhere else, or he kept missing her. Or she sat in her apartment, pretending no one was there, which at this point, he doesn't put past her.

At Mouse's words, there is a glimmer of hope in Jay's eyes, and though this feels wrong, as in violating her privacy wrong, he nods before he can change his mind. He knows it's illegal and wrong for so many reasons, but it's her partner, and he likes to believe that she would do the same thing if it were him.

Mouse's quick fingers on the keyboard remind him just how good he is at that, when he has her location a minute later. "She's at a bar. I'm gonna see if I can check some nearby cameras."

Before Jay can say anything, several screens show up on the screen, and they both slouch in front of it to see better. He feels the time stops, as he looks at humans walking in and out of the bar, until he spots her. She's leaning on some dude, to whom Jay would very much like to teach the meaning of pain, but it's irrelevant now, because she's in his arms. She chose to be with him, instead of people who love her and worry about her.

But as Jay looks at the screen, looking at her, he realizes that she might not be okay, but she is alive, and as long as she's still walking this Earth, he knows he will keep fighting for her. Because losing hope is a luxury he can't afford.

Not when everyone else has already lost it.

* * *

He shouldn't go again. Not after that time when she told him in no uncertain terms that his presence in her life is no longer wanted. When the lips he'd once kissed spit poison in his face up to the point where he didn't even recognize her. He drove away that day, and had to stop to cry in the car—for the first time entertaining an option that she might not come back. That this was it.

Still, he waits for her now, in front of the bar, in which he knows she's day drinking. Because who cares. It's not like she has a job anymore, not after tomorrow. But he has to give it one more try.

She doesn't even look like herself. The once clean and beautiful hair is now cut short, pulled back in a messy way. The sunglasses on her face are undoubtedly there to protect her light-sensitive eyes from hurting. Which means she's hungover, or high. Probably both. It makes him straight angry that she's wasting away like this.

"Let me guess, you had Mouse ping my phone?" She sounds annoyed.

"You know that Voight put you on three weeks furlough, right? In case you change your mind." He approaches her quickly, even his strides revealing the anger he's so desperately trying to keep inside. "That ends tomorrow."

"What do you want, Jay?" There is a shadow of his old partner in that question, but only that. A shadow.

"I wanna hear you say it."

"Say what?" She snaps, and he can't hold it in anymore. He yanks the sunglasses right off her face, so at least she has to look him in the eye and say it. But she doesn't. She looks away in an attempt to distance herself from the situation. But he's done letting her do that.

Then she turns her face and looks at him, and the words he has to say suddenly become much harder. "That you're no longer my partner. That you're throwing it all away."

And the look in his eyes is his final weapon. His eyes beg her not to say it—not to kill that part inside of him still hoping. "Look me in the eye. Tell me it's over."

Then for a second, she lowers her shield, because he can see every inch of the pain she has been hiding from. All the demons show themselves in one heart-breaking look, before she recomposes herself. "Are you done talking?" She asks, the snappy back in her voice, the walls back up.

"I don't know who you are," he tells her, "but tell Lindsay she made me a better cop. If you ever see her again." With that, he turns, walking away. He knows he will probably never see her again, because even a fool has to give up sometimes. He tries to burn her image into his mind, so he never forgets how much he failed her. As a friend. As a partner. As a man hopelessly in love with her.

He doesn't look back, so he doesn't see the flash of doubt in her eyes, a moment's hesitation, showing that maybe her walls aren't so indestructible after all.

* * *

"It's rare, but when it comes together—" Her lips against his cut him off. It's a quick kiss, and she pulls away before he can react, but every cell in his body is set ablaze with that simple touch of lips.

"That was for never giving up on me," she says, as though she ever has to explain kissing him. He breathes in, knowing that all those moments when he could have given up, they were defining for him—for them. They lead them straight here. Because he didn't give up. He didn't lose hope. And neither did she, when it counted the most. Now, she is here again, looking at him with those beautiful eyes he loves getting lost in, and saying thank you—in her own words.

She looks so insecure, so vulnerable in that moment, that the only thing he can think of saying or doing, is to capture her lips with another kiss—this one slightly longer. He places his hand on her cheek, drawing her in.

Pulling away, there is a hint of a smile on her face. "What was that for?" There is a familiar emotion in her eyes—one he recognizes because it's been there in his own for the past couple of weeks.

Hope.

Hope that she hasn't lost him, and that they didn't miss their chance.

"It's cause I wanted to kiss you," he replies, matter-of-factly. The next time they kiss, it's not him or her leaning in. It's both of them, meeting each other halfway. And for a while, he doesn't think at all.

But much later, when they're lying in her bed, and her hair is splattered across his chest, and he's holding her tight, he thinks about how glad he is that he never lost hope. And how he'll spend the rest of his life making sure that she never ever looses it again either.


	28. Couch

**A/N: I'm beyond sorry for this long hiatus I've put you all through. Life was just so busy. I hope maybe I can make up for it with some smut :)  
**

 **Huge thanks to my beta for volunteering to proofread this for me!  
**

* * *

 ** _Prompt #27: Couch - "Yup, the function is still great."_**

Word count: 1,131

* * *

He glances sideways at her, grinning softly when she turns her head to the screen too quickly. Busted, he thinks. These movie nights have become a sort of a habit that he really doesn't mind. Old classics, action classics, sometimes they even go for a rom-com if they feel like it. But this time, whenever he glances her way, he catches her staring—but not at the tv. At him. "You like the movie?" The question is innocent enough.

She nods absentmindedly, wondering if this is his way of exposing her, as in he knows she hasn't been watching the movie for the past half an hour. "It's great," she mumbles, cheeks burning red.

"Exactly how many times do you stare at me instead of watching the tv?"

"A lot," she admits, grinning back. "What can I say. It's a nice view."

The Die Hard marathon is easily forgotten, when he pulls her on his lap, crushing their lips together. His tongue slips inside her mouth. Gentle. Demanding. Hungry. Every time he kisses her like this, she understands why there have been so many songs written about this. Because if she had to choose one thing to do for the rest of her life, it would be this.

She straddles him—one hand on his chest for balance, while the other grabs the back of his head, gripping his hair to pull him closer. This is what she has been thinking about doing for the past fifteen minutes—imagining his mouth on hers. And if her heart was any weaker, it would have exploded by now.

Her hips move involuntarily, grinding against his crotch, making the oversized t-shirt she's wearing slide up her back. It's because of that, she thinks, and the moan he lets out, that their make out sessions usually end up in the bedroom.

Inhaling sharply when she comes up for air, she gets lost in the scent of him _—_ justa mixture of his shaving cream, oranges and a scent that is uniquely _him._ He tastes like popcorn and beer, and she dives back in, loving how his hand is resting on her bare leg, or how his skin is slightly flushed from the heat.

Kissing him is like the most intoxicating drug she's ever tried. And she's tried many in a very non-metaphorical way. She doesn't even mind his stubble rubbing her skin, or the cramp in her neck, because this is _everything_.

Then, as if on cue to ruin her evening, her phone rings.

She lets out a groan of displeasure, pulling away from his face to reach for the electronic device that she actually wants to throw out of the window. "It's Antonio," she murmurs, scrunching her nose, because Dawson almost never calls. She presses the answer button. "Hey, Tony. What's up?" Letting out a non-committal hum, she realizes that Jay's hands have wandered off, and he's slipped one underneath her shirt—and put her lack of a bra to a good use.

His skilled fingers are tracing up and down her skin, and she's trying to focus on the thing Dawson is so intent on discussing at this bad moment. But how can she, when Jay's hand is on her breasts, fondling softly, making her want to let out a moan.

"Yeah, no, I'm here." He smirks knowingly at that, realizing he's on the right path.

She tries to push him away, to stop his hands from pleasuring her in the most inopportune moment, but it only makes it worse. He pulls her down against him, so she can feel how hard he is for her, and it nearly causes her to combust.

Meanwhile she is trying to listen to something Antonio is saying, and preferably not moan into the speaker. But Jay's mouth lands on her neck, pressing his lips gently against the sensitive skin. It sets her ablaze with need, and makes her melt in his arms.

He suckles and scrapes the skin with his teeth and does just about everything he can think of to make the need bubble up inside of her until it becomes unbearable. And then, when she thinks she's made it through the most she can, he lifts his hips up and grinds against her, which granted isn't hard, because she's still straddling him.

"Yeah, sounds good. I'm sorry, Dawson, but I actually gotta go now. Yeah, bye."

He smirks up at her, knowing she's too far gone, when she starts pulling at the waistband of his sweats erratically. His fingers slip underneath the cotton fabric of her underwear, teasing out a throaty moan. Meanwhile, she finally manages to push down his pants, and is now desperately trying to get him on the same page.

How they manage to get rid of their underwear is beyond her, but all she knows is that she needs him, and he's taking his sweet time.

"Jay, now. Now!" she urges him, right before he dips her into the couch, aligning himself to slip inside of her, as if there is no hurry. He knows perfectly well he's got her on her knees, begging, and takes pleasure in having that power. So he sets a slow pace, setting aside all of her efforts to speed him up, as he builds the pleasure inside of her, slowly, deliberately with every thrust.

She stops fighting the slow rhythm, embracing it instead, meeting his every thrust with her hips, knowing that he'll get her there, fast or slow. Her body arches against the couch in anticipation of a climax, and then she's flying in his arms, and she's screaming his name so loud, she's certain the neighbours will complain.

And a minute later, he's right there with her, collapsing on top of her with ragged breaths.

"I'm seeing stars," she mumbles, making him chuckle on top of her.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

She rolls her eyes, but gives him the compliment, because he just gave her an orgasm that has got to be in the top five. Her hand slaps his butt playfully, but also to make him roll off before she suffocates.

"Yup, still great function." As he recovers, he smirks down at her flushed body and her sparkling eyes, knowing he'd never love another person this much. And it's just a moment after, when he feels vulnerable and cheesy and empty—until she cuddles into him, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek that reminds him just how special what they have is.

And it's the one thing he would go down fighting for.

But right now, the only thing he needs to fight for, is gathering enough energy to pick her limp body up, so he can carry her to the bedroom and do it all over again.


	29. Break Room

**A/N:** **I would set this sometime after season 1, because it was winter then, so that is the only thing that makes sense.  
**

* * *

 ** _Prompt #28: Break Room - If the walls could talk…_**

Word count: 1,947

* * *

"Don't stay too late," Voight tells her, when it's five in the afternoon and she is still slouched over paperwork. The case has been tough, and the weather has been tougher lately. It's only five, but it's already dark outside. It's been snowing a little all day long, and they're calling for more snow later on.

"Promise," she replies, and he ruffles her hair with affection before heading downstairs. The bullpen is quiet, and there are only few of them left. She suspects Jay is also trying to catch up on paperwork. He has this cute little frown when he gets focused, and she has been staring at it for the past half an hour, forgetting all about work.

When Ruzek and Atwater head out an hour later, it leaves just the two of them, with the warning from the guys to head home before they get snowed in, because apparently the Chicago sky is laying it on very thick outside already.

She doesn't even mean to stay so long. She keeps telling herself, just one more file, and when she looks up, she sees Jay's still frowning, and the darkness outside has set completely. Jay looks up now, and glances at the time. She knows they're screwed the second she sees his expression, after he leaps to the window and looks outside.

"Shit. There is no way we're going anywhere tonight."

"What?" She joins him at the window, gasping at how much snow there is outside, and at how much is still falling. Fair enough, it has been snowing a little all day since morning, but it must have gotten worse while they were buried in files, because he's right. There is a real snow blizzard outside. And neither of their cars are equipped for those kind of extreme weather conditions.

"Just perfect." And she had been looking forward to a weekend off, catching up on sleep and maybe some reading. And now she's stuck here. With Jay.

With nobody but Jay.

Well there are other people downstairs, probably also stuck here, waiting for the snow to calm down before they head home, and other civilians who have come to the police station to weather this out, but they're alone in the bullpen. And with the growing tension between them lately, she thinks it can't be too good.

"Who are you texting?" He asks, probably realizing the same thing she just has.

"Hank. Letting him know we're stuck. He said to stay put and wait it out. It's chaos out there. Two major pile-ups already. I better text Nadia too."

"You know this could take a while? I mean they'll probably get the streets clean till morning, but still. We're gonna have to spend the night here."

"I guess I could think of a worse company to be snowed in with," she says with a wink. "I'm gonna get us some food from the vending machine. Do you want anything in particular?"

"Cheetos."

She grins, because she shouldn't even have asked. During their partnership, she has long ago discovered his affinity for the finger-colouring snack. When she returns, he meets her with a smile, and some blankets.

"These should come in handy."

"What, no pillows?"

"I was told I make an excellent pillow," he teases with a cheeky smile, which causes her to roll her eyes and shake her head with disbelief. If somebody was looking at them from the outside, they'd think she's annoyed, but he knows better, and true to that, soon enough the dimples appear on her cheeks.

"Toss a coin for the couch?"

"We can share. We're adult people, with no attraction for each other whatsoever, right?" He asks, trying to keep a straight face.

She bursts out laughing, and he joins her right after. Now that they've addressed the elephant in the room, it's easier to plop down on the couch, drag the table to the edge of it and pile their snack collection on it.

"I'll make some coffee," he offers, and she nods in reply.

Watching him move, Erin gets lost in thought. The guy knows his way around the kitchen. And he looks good doing it. For a moment, she can almost envision him making coffee in different circumstances. In the morning, before they leave for work together. Only she would be able to hug him from behind and press a kiss on his shoulder blade in her fantasy, like she has been dying to.

Jay setting a steaming cup on the table makes her jump out of her thoughts. "Thanks," she murmurs. "It's still wild out there. I don't know how I'm gonna get my car from under that pile of snow on top of it."

"That's a tomorrow problem."

"Do we have a today problem?"

As if on cue, the power goes off. The darkness around her makes her blink several times for her eyes to get accustomed. "Great," she mutters under her breath.

"You just had to say that, right? Don't worry, the generator should kick in soon."

But it doesn't.

"The desk sergeant said the generator only covers emergency areas, like the holding cells and the entrance area. Everything non-essential is in blackout," she explains after returning from downstairs. "And since it's chaos on the streets it's chaos down there."

"Glad to know we're unessential here."

"Yeah. Thank god at least the door works." The door which is powered by electricity. It makes her think about how they would work in such circumstances, and she makes a mental note to advise Hank to get their own generator up here. "Guess we're lucky to have those blankets."

Two hours later, Erin would kill for a generator. Of any kind, but preferably heat. The dark she doesn't mind so much, but the cold creeping in from the outside is murderous, and the two blankets wrapped around her aren't doing much anymore.

"Not that I'm coming on to you or anything, but you do know I'm warm right? And your teeth are rattling."

She needs no further invitation, pressing herself against him in a position she doesn't even care is wrong. All she cares about is getting warm. The rumble of his chuckle vibrates against her skin, and she buries her face into his chest in shame. But his arms are around her, and he is so warm that her teeth actually stop making that annoying noise, so she just decides not to care that the way in which their bodies are touching is too intimate for their definition of partners.

"Do you ever think about what it would be like? If there were no rules and regulations?" She asks, when she settles her head on his chest like she's been doing it for years, and he drapes a blanket over them. The question comes out of nowhere, surprising even Erin, since she is usually the last one to bring up this awkward situation of their pent-up feelings.

If he's surprised by her question he does not show it, or at least not in a way she is able to see. "Sure. You?"

"Yeah," she admits.

"In a perfect life, I'm thinking two kids and a dog."

She knows they're joking around, but she still gasps. "I'm not having two kids!" She exclaims, desperately trying to think of a way to sneak her hands under his shirt to press them against his warm skin. How is he so hot? Literally and metaphorically, she wonders. "How about one and a dog?" She settles. "And I'm not living in the suburbs. That is where I draw the line."

"Deal, I'll just convince you about the second one when we get that far."

She looks at him, realizing the absurdity of their conversation and laughs. "Sunday dinners with Hank?"

He cringes, not wanting to talk about the one person keeping him from doing what he wants to do most, which is kiss her until the world ends. "I'll sacrifice myself, because wait until you meet my dad."

"What's he like?" Jay almost never talks about his family, but when he does it's about his brother, Will—the surgeon, or his mom, who passed away.

He thinks for a minute. "Cranky. Bitter. Mean."

"It's funny how you're none of these things."

"I can be cranky," he admits.

"Before coffee," she finishes for him, and they lock eyes, both always surprised by finishing each other's sentences side of their partnership. "But you're not bitter. And you're certainly not mean. You must get that from your mom."

"She was …" his words trail off as he gets lost in memories. "She was the kindest woman. She loved with all of her heart, and got hurt for it many times. She loved taking care of people. It was her favourite thing. Sometimes I feel that she deserved better than us. But she never complained. Not even in the end."

"I think you're a lot like her," she murmurs, thinking about how much that description fits him. "You take care of people, too." _You take care of me,_ is what she really wants to say, but it gets stuck in her throat. Judging by the sudden silence, he is aware of the hidden meaning behind her words.

Neither of them knows what to say, but he presses a soft kiss on the top of her head, despite knowing it falls under crossing the line of professional.

"Hey, I think the power is back on," she says, feeling the blast of heat coming from somewhere.

"That's great."

But neither of them moves to turn on the light, or to change their positions. Both of them are perfectly comfortable right where they are, as they slowly drift to sleep, dreaming of a world without rules and regulations keeping them apart.

* * *

It's only because of Jay sleeping with one eye open all the time that Voight doesn't catch them in this compromising position. So when the team gets there, with their sergeant leading the way, they're folding blankets and drinking fresh coffee. Their late-night conversation remains a secret they take with them, after Hank takes one look at them, and sends them home to shower and rest.

It's a secret that lingers in the car between them, as he drops her off at her apartment, because her car is boxed in the snow and she couldn't get it out. As fate would have it, the way from the precinct to her place takes a lot longer than normally, because the roads are still not in the best condition.

He stops in front of her building, getting her as close to the entrance as he can. "Here we are."

"Yeah." The longing between them—usually kept under a wrap—is more than present on this cold winter morning. "I'd invite you upstairs, but—I don't think it would be a good idea." After last night, she needs space to put up her walls and convince herself of all the reasons why they can't be. At least not yet.

If he came upstairs, she's not sure they could keep their hands off of each other.

His hand moves from the steering wheel to hover over hers, before letting his fingers wrap around hers. "I know."

Right before she exits the car, leaving the thing she wants most behind, he murmurs something, perhaps half hoping she won't hear.

"Someday it will be one day."

Maybe he said it to her, or maybe he said it to reassure himself. Whichever may it be, it is that sentence that puts a smile on her face as she walks towards her apartment. Because someday it will be one day.

And she can't wait.


	30. The Knowing Looks

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry I've been a little busy lately, drowning being old with alcohol (a.k.a. celebrating my Birthday), but here you go!**

 **I worked very hard on it, because this scene is very special to all of us, and I tried to do it justice. I also think it works well with the previous one, so if you missed that, you might want to give it a read.**

 **1000x thanks to quesera1 who beta'd this for me! Go check out her writing as well. You won't regret it!**

* * *

 ** _Prompt #29: The Knowing Looks - Their eyes spoke a language of their own, one that nobody else understood._**

Word count: 2,461

* * *

Erin doesn't exactly remember the time she first realized they could speak without words. The thought itself had been scary enough back then, as she kept convincing herself that falling for her partner was a catastrophically bad idea. She is a strong, independent, badass woman, who can resist the charms of a man if that's what she wants.

But she remembers the day she looked at him, and knew exactly what he was thinking. They were out for drinks at Molly's, and Burgess was asking him something about his time in the military, after Erin already dodged a question by giving a vague answer, so he couldn't exactly do the same. Burgess could be a tenacious little thing as well.

She remembers he answered quickly, downing some of his beer as a distraction. Then he glanced at her, and she could see what he was thinking. How the terrors he's been through are too rough to talk about out loud, especially over beer, especially with someone as pure and innocent as Kim. He didn't need to say it. She knew, because she was a kindred spirit—anything but pure and innocent. Life had broken her as well as him. And in that moment, she felt an honest connection that had never disappeared and never wavered.

After that, there was no way back. Every time she looked into his gorgeous blue eyes, her day got just a little bit better, and she got a little bit closer to him.

Just days ago, she was standing right here, in the bullpen, as she told everyone she was leaving the unit. His eyes locked on hers then, and she knew how he felt. She would have known without looking in his eyes, because she felt the same. But there was something else there.

 _I'm so proud of you._

And it's like that again this time, when he looks at her intensely and reminds her that they no longer work together. She looks around, as if checking to see that no one is close enough to hear their conversation as his lips curl into one of those smiles she loves so much. Even though it's the middle of the day and she is working, she swears she can feel the itching between her legs when he looks at her, knowing just how much he affects her.

Holding her breath for a second, she lets herself get lost in that intense stare—the sea of blue—which could only constitute as eye sex. The world around them dissolves for the time being, and it is just the two of them, until duty calls and she has to recompose herself to focus on her job. But his words linger in the back of her mind all day, and his stare makes her hot anytime she recalls it.

It's not like she dressed herself for work that morning with him in her mind as she carefully chose the white lace, imagining how it would make him crazy with lust. It didn't seem right to wear her everyday cotton underwear underneath the pant suit she bought for her new job, so she splurged on a couple of new things, pampering herself for the first time in a while.

His invitation to meet at the range had taken her by surprise, but the thought that even though they're not working together anymore, they can still stay in each other's lives, is oddly comforting.

* * *

Her foot pushes on the gas pedal, even slightly over the speed limit. She _was_ headed home, but her mind has plans of its own, and she realizes that, when she pulls into the parking lot in front of Jay's building.

She doesn't bother taking her stuff from the car, simply locking it, and making her hurried way to his apartment. As she knocks, she wonders why her heart is beating so loudly, and why her palms are so sweaty. She has been here a thousand times before, keeping Jay company as they grabbed a beer together, or caught a game on tv. But this is different.

All she manages when he opens the door is a small "hey". The sight of him is a sight for her sore eyes, and when he smiles, it makes her insides melt. She wants nothing more than to slam her body against his, but something stops her.

"Hey," he greets back, still standing at the door.

"Am I interrupting anything?" She hopes it's not a hot date, but she knows Jay. He wouldn't be making inviting comments if he were seeing someone. That's not him.

"Just your own press conference." He motions to the tv, where indeed, the press conference she has decided to skip is playing in the background. "Do you want to come in?"

"Yeah." She walks in, feeling awkward all of the sudden, wondering if maybe she misread the signals from earlier. She rubs her hands together, to get rid of the fidgety feeling. "So this is how you're spending your evening. You must really miss me."

"They didn't let you do any of the talking," he jokes, looking the epitome of the word 'hot', standing there with his hands in his pockets. His grin is the kind she loves the most—the relaxed joking one. "No offense to Lang, but you're a little easier on the eyes."

She feels like her heart fell somewhere and she can't reach it—and neither can she reach her breath, which is stuck somewhere inside her lungs. "It's not really my scene. Plus, you know Voight's got a rule. You never get your picture in the paper."

When she made the decision to skip the press conference, she didn't realize it, but the choice she made was as if she was still a part of Intelligence. She wonders if she'll ever stop feeling like a part of it.

"You wanna talk about your day?"

She turns to look at him, and as always, she can tell that he wants this as much as she does. "Not really."

He's looking at her with a million questions, a million things to say, but he doesn't say anything. Because he knows that they're at a turning point—the turning point that he had been hoping for since she quit the unit.

Then his lips are crushing against hers—finally—and she's melting into his arms like it's what she was meant to do. Her back hits something—the door frame? As he pulls back, his eyes search hers for something. Permission? He has it. Doubts? She has none.

Clearly, he is happy with the answer, because he grabs her jaw with his hand, and then he kisses her again. She can't believe they waited for this for so long, but at the same time, is it the long wait that's making this even better? The months of anticipation and hoping they could get their hands on each other someday.

They undress each other hurriedly. There is no time to explore each other, to enjoy, to appreciate. There is only need, clawing at them with its greedy fingers—the need to have, to touch, to feel. The heat between them sets them ablaze. No time to be gentle, not when their bodies fit together like they were made for each other.

There is a moment—after he lifts her up, his strong arms holding her up, his skin burning against her thighs, as he makes his way to the bed—when she looks at him. It's only for a split second, just a brief glance before he lays her down on the bed, when she knows she's not alone in this. She's not the only one feeling like this is more real than anything else she's ever experienced. Jay is right there with her. And that makes her more certain than ever.

Leaving behind a trail of clothes, they finally take the time to take each other in. His eyes travel down her body slowly, and she thinks he must have eyed her before—this is just the first time he can do it openly, without worries she'll catch him staring, or that somebody will notice.

Without thinking, she returns the favour, taking in the taut muscles she's been feasting her eyes on for almost a whole year, but can now actually touch. The freckles on his neck that were the bane of her existence since she saw them one day, when the light was just right, are now hers to kiss, and she can place her hand on his chest like she always wanted to.

The moment her body is pinned under his, her senses shift into overload—his intoxicating smell, his darkened eyes, his fingers on her bare skin—it all makes her wild. The light from the living room slants in, cut across the bed so that she can see him. Barely, but enough. She can hear the low groans he lets out between kisses, and the animal sound of flesh slapping against flesh.

She joins in, letting out a soft breathy moan when his mouth closes over her lace-covered breasts and her back arches up to give him better access. Their movements are ripe with desperation and need. She wants him to take her right there, in just one greedy gulp. But Jay has other plans. He has waited for this too long for it to be over before it really begins.

He kisses his way down her body, slowly caressing her skin along the way. Her body raises in response as she lets out another moan, this time louder and bolder, as his fingers find her, hot and wet and welcoming. She pulls him lower, so that his body is pressing against hers and her nails can dig into his back in desperation while he torments her slowly.

"I need you." She all but purrs with her voice dripping with lust. He had imagined her saying this so many times—mindless and frantic. He'd dreamed of the way she would feel under his fingers, and of the sounds she would make.

Now she is here, burning for him, and it's not enough. He needs more.

He wants to hear her scream for him—his own desire brutally pumping through his blood, making it harder for him to not give into her wishes straight away. He moves his fingers in a way that makes her squirm, but ultimately doesn't give her what she craves. His skilled fingers keep her close to the edge, as his lips find hers and he aligns himself with her.

Time stills for a second. Her smile spreads as she feels him at her entrance, huge and hard like she always knew he would be. "I want you," she whispers.

His control snaps, and they're finally one.

He stills, letting their bodies and minds get accustomed to the novelty of the feeling. When he starts moving, pleasure floods her entire being. Slowly at first, but then faster, and then just fast enough. He yanks her hips higher to go deeper, and her legs lock around his waist in response. Her nails dig in, and she lets out a sound—somewhere between a moan and a scream.

Jay keeps moving inside of her. He fills himself with her. His mouth, his hands almost bruising on her body. Years of wanting and longing catch up, and he wants all of it, all at once.

She covers his damp skin with kisses—wet, sloppy, passionate kisses anywhere she can reach, until she's flying again, and flying high. Her limbs become too heavy, and she just sort of melts onto the mattress with a scream.

He sees only red for a second, before it vanishes and all there is left is a ripping climax that empties him completely.

The last thing she remembers before she either drifts to sleep or loses consciousness (she can't really be sure) is him saying he's not done with her yet.

* * *

Erin wakes before him, watching his chest rising and falling. They're both sprawled across the bed, casualties of war—the scars on his back there to prove it. It makes her grin now, how they annihilated each other. It figures they would. They waited for this for so long, it doesn't even come as a surprise.

What did come as a surprise was him. Erin always knew he would be good in bed, but she never imagined _that._

She stirs up the energy to reach out and turn on the bedside lamp. They didn't have time before for things as ordinary as lights. Then she moves her legs to make sure they're still working, before smiling at him affectionately and poking his shoulder gently. "Are you alive?"

"No." His answer makes her chuckle, and he opens his eyes slowly at the sound. "You?"

"Barely."

"When I regain my ability to move you won't even be barely alive," he murmurs. "Not done yet." Not even close.

Taking her by surprise, he rolls them over, so he's hovering above her. That wicked grin is back on his face and his eyes have their usual sparkle. "I can see that," she replies, grinning back when she feels him harden against her again.

And neither is she.

* * *

"I'm glad we went for one day," she whispers when they're spooning in bed many rounds later (they lost count). "It wouldn't have felt as right if it happened before."

"I know. Me too." He presses a kiss in the crook of her neck, making her giggle when he hits her ticklish spot. "I need some water. You've completely dehydrated me," he teases, surprised when she just chuckles and rolls over in bed to let him get up.

It's amazing to see how different they can act around each other now—how much more carefree they both dare to be. Before, at any given time, there was this ghost of the attraction between them, and of the tender feelings that have been growing since that night, when he told her they would definitely happen one day.

She won't admit it to him, but she could never get one day out of her head.

Sitting up, she doesn't even bother to pull the sheet around her. He grins, passing her the water bottle as he joins her in bed.

She hates that even as he gulps down water, she can't help but become aroused by how his throat clenches. Even though they don't lack desire, they do however lack enough stamina to continue after round five.

It doesn't matter. All she has to do is look at him to know that this thing between them is just beginning. And much like him, she can't wait to see it unfold.

* * *

 **A/N: Don't forget to review if you liked it!**


	31. Twinning

**A/N: Hey guys! I hope you're still enjoying this. I really beg you to let me know because the reviews for this particular fic have been down lately, so let me know if you want me to finish it.**

 **I'd like to send big hugs to quesera1 for her help with editing, and also thank her and allenting on tumblr for their help with ideas, because I was struggling with how I wanted to do this.**

 **Note: There is some dialogue that I borrowed from Castle.**

 **Warning: Side effects include death from cuteness, eyes turning into hearts and many others.**

* * *

 ** _Prompt #30: Twinning - They never did it on purpose. Except for that one time._**

Word count: 2,066

* * *

The first time it happens, it's with the colour of their shirts.

They're still only partners, who occasionally look at each other like maybe they want to be something more. And he doesn't know how it happens—maybe he has just become so attuned to what she likes that he accidentally chose the same shade of red, which seems to be her go-to colour.

He doesn't even pick up on it until Ruzek, in his carefree idiot fashion, points it out.

"Aww, now we're colour matching? What's next? Linking your google calendars?"

Erin just rolls her eyes and lets it go, like she normally does when Adam is being, well, Adam. But Jay can't get it out of his head. Because maybe one of the reasons he picked up this shirt the last time he went shopping was because it reminded him of her. Of how amazing she looks in this particular shade of red that reminds him of cherries, and red wine, and sweet promises. Maybe it's because of that leather jacket that does certain things for her body, even when she's just kicking some drug dealer's ass.

He reassures himself that that's surely not it, and that he just likes the colour. After all, his wardrobe is pretty monochromatic—mostly consisting of blacks, greys, blues, so a little red can't hurt, right?

* * *

"Someone's on a walk of shame." A cheeky voice brings Jay to reality. He mentally curses himself for not going home this morning to change from yesterday's clothes, but he didn't think anybody would notice.

But of course, the sweet voice doesn't belong to just anybody. It belongs to someone with insider information. Someone who knows very well whose floor he picked his clothes off when he rushed to work that morning.

"Shut up." He glares at the brunette, hoping she'll get the hint.

"You know, I saw Erin wearing this exact shade just before. I think it's sweet how you guys colour coordinate."

"I just like blue," he mutters, brushing her off. Of course, she means no harm. She's just trying to get a rise out of him, as per usual. It's sort of their _thing_. But it does put a dent into his good mood.

Until he sees her.

Nadia was right. She is wearing a shade of blue dangerously close to the one he's wearing. They pass each other on the hallway, and when their eyes meet, he gets a feeling of déjà vu. She gives him a smile, and he can't resist it. His strong arm grabs hers, pulling her back into the locker room.

Erin lets out a gasp of surprise, but she can't do much else. After Jay finishes making sure nobody is in there, her back hits the wall, and his kisses are a very passionate reminder of last night, and every night before that. Her fingers grip his henley as she supresses a moan.

"Hi," he says with a grin, enjoying when the corners of her lips tug upwards as well. He loves making her smile. In fact, he spends most of his day coming up with ideas on how to do that. Which stupid joke will cause that smile that melts his insides.

"Hi back." Her fingers settle on his shoulder, and for a brief moment Jay remembers Nadia's comment from before, because her shirt almost fades into his. Her eyes follow his look, causing her to drop her head in slight embarrassment. "It made me think of you," she explains the choice of colour, and that single comment is enough to make him grin all day long.

Not even Nadia, with her "I wonder if your underwear is the same colour too" can ruin his day, especially because he knows all he has to do is wait till the end of the day to find out exactly what colour Erin's underwear is.

* * *

The unit is all gathered together for Antonio's birthday, even though he jokingly said he's beyond the age when he wants to celebrate. Jay can sort of get that, but they drag him out anyway, even if it is just drinks at Molly's.

He could use some fun anyway. Since he and Erin decided to cool it off, he hasn't exactly been the fun guy. He thought he knew what longing was from before they got together, but this—having her, then losing her—is way worse.

For a brief time, everyone forgets their worries and problems. Except Jay. Because he can't exactly forget the object of his eternal frustrations when she is sitting right in front of him. This is the first time they have spent together outside of work. It was just too painful otherwise.

"Pass the peanuts?" Burgess asks nobody in particular.

They both reach for the bowl at the same time—their motions synchronized, almost fluid; their fingers brushing lightly. For Jay, time stops. The only thing that exists is the tiny patch of skin where they are currently connecting, and the way her eyes are locked with his, and the fact that he misses her more than he ever imagined he would.

But the moment goes by, and she retrieves her hand, and the conversation goes on.

Jay is the only one who thinks about that moment for days to come, relishing in the memory of the simplest touch.

(Or at least he thinks he's the only one.)

* * *

Their twinning doesn't stop at clothing and sunglasses. Even their minds work in a similar way. Sometimes, it gets to be too much, and it's annoying how she can read him so well.

But at work, it's one of the perks of their partnership.

"Wait. Computer science major, spends hours on a laptop?"

"She's a hacker," she replies, her brain working with his. "Which is why she was staying at the motel. She could pay in cash, remain anonymous while she was using the IP address." It's all starting to make sense now, the murder, the missing laptop.

"Exactly, and whatever she was hacking was either so illegal or so dangerous, she had to make sure they didn't trace it back to her."

"Which is why she created a whole false persona. Who was gonna look twice at a runaway hooker."

"We need to find that laptop. Whatever is on it is really important." But they've searched her apartment, and the laptop wasn't there.

"Remember that footage from the elevator?"

"She went down to the laundry room before she was killed."

"And the ME said they found creosote under her fingernails from the boiler room next door."

They look at each other, grinning. The words come out simultaneously from both of them, and it reminds him how sexy her brain is. How smart she is, and how much it turns him on when their brains are in sync.

"The laptop's in the basement!"

"Aww, it's so cute when you guys do that," Ruzek teases. "I don't even dare to say anything to interrupt you, you robots."

"Yeah, do you guys practice when we're not around?" Atwater adds his pitch.

"You're just jealous we're both smarter than you," Jay returns the sassy remark, while Erin only rolls her eyes, which is her go-to response to any sort of teasing. And as the team heads out to find the laptop and find out what is so special about this case, they exchange a secret grin when nobody is watching.

It makes Jay realize that what they have is worth all the teasing in the world.

* * *

"Change. I'm wearing grey today." They're dressing up to go to work, and they're both standing in front of their respective closets. "I call dibs on grey."

"Why can't we both wear it?" He pouts in her direction. "I look good in this shirt."

"Because Adam will make fun of us, again." She wants to add something about him looking good in any shirt, but she bites her tongue. But her gaze gives her away, as usual.

"Well, then come on and take it off," he says with his brows raised at her, and she bites her lip in anticipation.

"Oh, gladly."

He considers it a win when both of their shirts end up in a forgotten pile on the floor.

* * *

"I like this place," she murmurs, as they're scouting a house together. They've been discussing it for a while now, and almost as a sign, this place literally fell into their laps.

"The price is really good, because we're not bothered that someone was killed here."

"Hope the ghost is friendly," she jokes, fidgeting. She's been nervous since they left, and it's only been getting worse since they got here.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing. I just…" She exhales, obviously trying to get something out. He wonders if she has doubts about this. If that's what she's nervous about. And thinking about what's currently in his pocket, makes him nervous as well. "It feels like a new chapter of my life. I know I said I'm not a person for all the nonsense. I said a lot of things that don't make sense to me anymore, because since we got together, I've turned into a cheesy romantic or whatever. But I know, without a doubt, that you're the person I'm going to grow old with. Here. In this house." She points to the kitchen. "This is where we'll drink our morning coffee together every day, and you'll make love to me on this counter when we're too far to get to bed, and upstairs is our bedroom, where I'll fall asleep counting your freckles and wake up to you watching me sleep. And I want it. I want all of it. And I want you to marry me."

She closes her mouth, almost in disbelief that she finally got that out.

Jay remains speechless, mouth slightly parted as he stares into her eyes, and wonders how on Earth he got so lucky. Until her expression sobers and reminds him that she did in fact propose and he hasn't replied.

"You're not saying anything. I thought this was what you wanted."

That's when he reaches into his pocket for the velvet box, and grins at her. "It is."

She burst out laughing. If they do everything else in sync, why shouldn't they propose in sync as well. She holds out her hand, nodding fiercely while tears stain her face, but these he doesn't mind. For once, they're tears of joy, instead of their awful opposite.

Sliding the ring on her finger, he can't stop himself from smiling, because even though they proposed to each other at almost exactly the same time, she was the one to say it first, and that's something he'll never forget.

* * *

The one time when they actually match their outfits on purpose is a little after they move into their new house. It's Jay's idea, and she goes along with it, because it's cute and why not.

"You know they already know right?" She asks, as they make their way up the stairs.

But as they walk into the bullpen, it doesn't matter that everyone knows. As soon as Adam catches a glimpse of their matching t-shirts, he bursts out laughing, and then comes to hug Erin, followed by everyone else.

Her shirt vaguely says "It's a…" and Jay's shirt finishes the sentence: "boy!" It only makes sense if they're standing together.

Of course, working at a police precinct hasn't been ideal for keeping any sort of a secret, especially not this one. When Erin started staying behind, and at her desk more often, avoiding the field, everyone figured out the reason pretty quickly.

Jay walking around with a permanent smile plastered on his face did not help the suspicions, but this was the day they were announcing it officially, and it made absolutely no difference that they all knew she was pregnant. The excitement and joy and congratulations fill the bullpen.

After all, they deal with death and bad news every day, all day long. They know the reasons for celebration are few and far in between, so they welcome good news in whatever form it comes.

"Congratulations man, you're one lucky bastard." Jay couldn't agree with Antonio's assessment more.

After all, he gets to spend the rest of his life with a woman, who not only completes his sentences, but also completes him.


	32. Army

**A/N: First of all, THANK YOU SO MUCH for all the feedback on the last chapter. It really helps so much with the motivation, you have no idea. Keep sending me your thoughts and I'll keep bringing these, okay?**

 **Second of all, thanks to my amazing girl quesera1 for editing. It makes all the difference to make me feel confident about posting, I'm so grateful for your help!**

 **P.s. The name of the street is 100% made up.**

* * *

 **_Prompt #31: Army_ \- _She didn't pretend to understand, but she was always there._ **

Word count: 1,657

* * *

For the longest time Jay has been okay.

At least that's what he attempted to believe, while shoving the unresolved issues deep down under the surface. And to be fair, there were not many people he could talk to about it. He already maxed out on the psychiatrist sessions that his insurance covered. The only family he really had left was his brother, who lived in New York, and the Corsons, who had enough on their plate already. They didn't need his baggage to add to their own trauma.

So shoving it all down and pretending it isn't there is pretty much the only coping mechanism he knows.

But the fact is, there are days when Jay is not okay. And today is one of those days.

He has tried not to let the case affect him—but how could he not be affected, when the case involved a former soldier, who was so broken by what he saw overseas that his life was a perpetual war state. It led him to lose contact with reality, and even to kidnap his own daughter to protect her from the enemies inside his head.

After a city-wide manhunt, they found him and his daughter unharmed. But as they took his daughter to safety, he stepped over the edge of a 12-story building. There was nothing Jay—or anyone—could do to stop him.

The war had claimed another victim.

And with a case like that, it's hard to remain calm and unfazed. It's much easier to keep downing the drinks the bartender is setting in front of him. Maybe he'll even take that girl—the one who has been flirting with him across the bar—home for the night. Anything to forget. To numb the pain.

But as most things, it doesn't end up quite the way he planned it.

* * *

Erin's peaceful slumber is interrupted by the continuous buzzing of her phone. She stirs, shaking her head to shake off the sleep, as she fumbles for her phone.

Since she started working in Intelligence, Erin has become used to late night calls. Whenever the case lands on their desks, they get up, drag themselves out of bed, and rush out to seek justice and save people. So Erin has no reason to be alarmed by the call, until she catches a glimpse of the screen, and realizes it's not Voight calling her in.

It's Jay.

But when she quickly swipes right to answer, it isn't Jay's familiar voice on the other side, and at first, she thinks he butt-dialled her, but she quickly realizes what's going on.

"Excuse me, is this Erin?"

"Yes. Who is this?"

"Hi, I'm calling from the bar on the corner of Jefferson and 3rd. I guess this is your friend, and he's too drunk to get home on his own?"

Shedding the comforter, Erin is already pulling on a worn hoodie and some sweats, as she assures the person on the other side that she'll be there as soon as she can. She almost trips over herself as she puts on shoes and grabs her keys, and then she's on her way.

Despite the bartender's assurances that Jay is okay, she can't help but frown with worry. It is, after all, her partner that's in trouble. Her foot presses on the gas pedal.

After a crazy ride through town, one red light crossed, and speeding that will, as a police officer, haunt her for days, she gets to the location in record time. Her only thought is to get to Jay as soon as possible, so she pretty much just leaves the car in front of the bar, hops out and runs inside.

When she sees him, he doesn't even look like himself. Sure, he's had too much to drink before, but nothing like this. It breaks her heart to see him sitting there, his head propped up only by his elbow, which keeps slipping on the bar. He's a mess.

She shoots the bartender a grateful look and passes him a twenty across the grimy bar surface. Then, touching Jay's shoulder softly, she tries to get him to stand.

"Jay, come on. Let's get you home." He mumbles something unrecognizable. She checks that he has his phone, wallet and keys, and somehow, manages to slide one hand around her neck, so she can support his dead weight, as she tries to drag him to the car. Never before has she been so happy that she's physically strong.

He nods off in the car, or passes out, she really can't be sure. The entire ride her eyes flicker to him, anxiously. She wonders what made him drink himself into oblivion like this, even though the answer practically offers itself.

She taps her fingers against the steering wheel, waiting for the light to turn green. That's when he wakes for no more than a second. He looks at her, for what seems like forever, and utters one word.

 _Ceasefire._

It all clicks into place. The case, his military history. Her heart breaks into million pieces for her partner, and for whatever he went through over there that's causing this state of mind.

Afraid to leave him alone for the night, she heads back to her apartment. By the time they get there, he's feeling a bit better—steady enough that he can walk, at least with her support. Relief washes over her when they're finally inside of her apartment. She helps him to lean on the wall, so she can lock the door behind them, but he struts to the couch, plopping face-down, and seconds later she can hear little snores.

Knowing that she's not strong enough to move him, she gets him a blanket and pushes a pillow underneath his head, so his neck won't be too sore the next day. Her hand brushes his hair back gently, and an enormous desire to help him comes in a wave. The worst part is that she knows she can't help.

Nobody can erase the things he has seen, or the things he has done.

* * *

The light is excruciating. Jay flutters his eyelids open, panicking, as it takes him a while to recognize the shapes and edges of his partner's apartment. That, at least, lessens the panic, replacing the emotion with relief that he's somewhere familiar and not lying in a ditch somewhere.

Next comes the panic when he doesn't remember almost anything from the night before. Well the last thing he remembers was eyeing that girl, who was flirting with him. But that doesn't explain how he ended up at Erin's place.

"Morning, sleepyhead." The voice is coming from the kitchen, and he follows it (and the smell of coffee).

"Hey."

"This first." She places two aspirins into his hand, followed by a glass of water. "Bottoms up." He does as he's told, and next comes a steaming cup of coffee.

He sends her a grateful gaze, finally feeling okay enough to take in her place and her. He's been here before, of course, on game nights, and once when Erin needed to pick up something while they were at work. It's a nice place, he ponders, screwing up his eyes when she pulls the curtains apart, letting in the morning sun.

If the sun makes him feel worse, he can say the opposite about the fresh air she lets in by opening the balcony door. It makes him realize he must smell like the entire contents of a bar. Suddenly he craves a shower.

She doesn't speak, instead focusing on preparing some food for breakfast, even though he can tell she's not at home in the kitchen. His gratitude grows.

"Thank you." He doesn't specify. Because he's grateful for everything. For the fact that she got out of her warm bed in the middle of the night to pick up his drunken ass from a bar. For letting him crash on her couch and tucking him in (which he can't remember the last time somebody did). For not acting like he's a burden. "And I'm sorry."

She shakes her head. "You're welcome," she tells him with a small smile. "And you don't have to be sorry, Jay. But I would like to know what's going on. And this isn't coming from a place of anger, or annoyance. I'm just worried."

He owes her at least some sort of explanation. "That case, yesterday. I just came close to ending up like that." Even though he's a reasonable man, who knows that showing weakness is nothing to be ashamed of, there is still a part of him that wants to crawl into a dark space after admitting that. "And it's just easier to believe one more drink is going to make me feel better."

She nods, defying his expectations of judgement and accusations. She just nods, sitting across from him at the table after setting the food down.

Her hand covers his, and he enjoys the feeling of her small warm palm on top of his. It makes him feel safe for some reason. "Then next time you're not okay after a case, call me. You don't have to do this on your own. I'm your partner."

The concept of someone having his back after being alone against the world for so long is hard for him to grasp. But slowly, it sinks in. Erin is looking at him expectantly, and it's his turn to nod. Managing a smile for her, he turns his hand upwards, so that his is covering hers now. "Only if you promise to do the same."

Clearly happy with his answers, she rewards him with one of those smiles that could light up the world. "Deal."

As they sit there, eating eggs and bacon (good for his hangover), he feels like their friendship has gone up a level. And suddenly, he doesn't feel so alone in the world anymore.


	33. Women's Shelter

**A/N: *Waves* Hi remember me? I bet you thought I was like dead or something, but surprise! I've been so busy lately, and after that cold/flu/death it took me a while to get my muse back up and running, but here I am, if you'll still have me.  
**

 **As always my deepest gratitude to quesera1 on here. I appreciate your editing tips and improvements so much! 3  
**

* * *

 ** _Prompt #32: Women's Shelter_ \- _He didn't even ask. He simply went with her._**

Word count: 1,613

* * *

 _I am one lucky woman,_ she thinks, as she is feasting her eyes on her new roommate currently pulling on his shirt. The action itself seems very unnecessary, which Erin mentions to him as well. If it were up to her, he would always be shirtless. Her reply is a goofy eye-roll. She laughs, propping her head on her elbow, too lazy to get up just yet.

And to think all this started by cleaning. Erin had no idea this moving in thing would be so fun. They finally got around to cleaning out some of her stuff, or at the very least organizing it, in order to make space for Jay's stuff. Him moving in meant Erin had to get rid of some of her things.

Not that she minded parting with stuff. It was more the act of cleaning that was problematic to her, and Jay quickly figured out why. She hadn't cleaned out her closet in a while—probably since she moved in.

But all his whining about her being messy died off when he stumbled across some long-forgotten lingerie. Of course, he persuaded her to try them on, which is why she's sprawled naked against the big bed in the middle of the afternoon, with clothes and other things piled around her.

"What about these, babe?"

Break over, she thinks to herself, searching for the clothes she was wearing before the Victoria's Secret fashion show started. She can't find them anywhere, so she just pulls on the nearest shirt she can locate, before getting out of the bed.

"I thought I'd take them somewhere." It's boxes of clothes she doesn't wear. She has been planning to organize her closet for a long time, and Jay's move in has proved to be the perfect nudge. "They're perfectly good clothes. I was thinking maybe I could drop them off at that shelter I told you about. I mean, women come there with nothing sometimes." Her remark is casual, but he can tell there is something more behind it. Something more personal.

They definitely didn't have much when they came. Bunny didn't even take Erin's favourite plush toy—Mr. Bear. Ever since that case they had, involving the shelter, and her conversation with Jay at Molly's, Erin has been thinking about it more; about a time in her life she has pushed somewhere to the back, where it can no longer hurt her.

And it can't. As bitter-sweet as those memories are, she has a life now. A good life, which is about to get better, because she's going to share her life and her space—something she has always been very reluctant to share—with the man she loves. And yes, she is aware that with two strong personalities it won't always be smooth sailing. There will be clashes, but nothing they can't solve. She has been surprisingly excited about him moving in.

She doesn't realize how lost in her thoughts she is, until he comes closer, and rests his head on her shoulder, his arms wrapping her into a hug from behind.

"I can come with you."

She only nods, deciding she will not ruin this moment with talking. Leaning back into him, she allows his arms to steady her, for him to provide a wall she can lean on. His face nuzzles into her neck, and she visibly relaxes. For the first time she has that kind of relationship with someone, and she'll be damned if she lets anything destroy it.

Minutes later, they untangle from their embrace, heading to change their clothes and haul the boxes to the car downstairs. The ride is mostly silent, save for Erin's directions of how to get there. She doesn't use her name when talking to the lady, and she doesn't tell her that she spent a small portion of her childhood there. And there is no recognition—at first.

"Keep doing what you do," she tells her, as she drops of the third box. Jay had just gone to get more from the car, so they're alone for the minute. Erin can tell exactly the moment when the woman recognizes her.

"You were such a bright kid," she remembers, and Erin doesn't know if she would put it that way, but it makes her smile nonetheless. "Such a pretty girl. I'm glad you made it out. Did your mother finally get it together?"

Erin shakes her head, feeling Jay come up behind her with another box. She briefly wonders if they remember all the people passing through here. Probably not. "My mom never left that life."

"Is that your husband?"

"Boyfriend," she replies vaguely, though there is no need for reservation. The woman radiates warmth, just like she did all those years ago, when she took Erin to school. The feel of her palm enveloping Erin's small one is something Erin will never forget. Before she can think about it, she finds herself sipping on a cup of tea, telling her story, while Jay sits next to her, not uttering a single word. But his palm is resting on her thigh, covering her smaller one. It's support, she thinks. Soft, silent, steady.

Unwavering.

It's what makes telling the story of how she got out easier. She's aware that he's hearing some of this for the first time, but it doesn't matter. Because if they are serious—and she is dead serious about spending the rest of her life with him—she needs to let him all the way in.

As they head home, Erin can't leave without reassuring her once again that what they do here matters. She suspects that every woman that gets away, that starts over, is additional motivation to these people, who work tirelessly to offer them a safe space.

On their way home, she makes a detour. Jay glances at her—surprised—but doesn't say anything as she parks the car. He follows her out of the car, as she stares at a dark, abandoned building. They're in a dangerous neighbourhood, and he feels a sudden urge to wrap his fingers around his side arm.

"This is where I used to live," she murmurs quietly—so quietly he can barely hear it. "This building was home for most of my early years. We moved around some, but this is the place I remember as home."

And what a cold home it must have been, Jay thinks. In that moment he is even prouder of his girl for making it out.

"This is where I come from," she tells him, because he needs to know.

"This is where you pulled yourself from. It only speaks more about you."

She buries her face into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent she adores so much as a reminder that this is no longer home—he is. He takes the car keys from her, navigating effortlessly out of the neighbourhood, until they reach home. She's silent, and he feels the needs to tell her something.

"You're amazing, you know?" He asks, once they return to the apartment. It's dark and silent, just like she prefers it. Her sanctuary. She shakes her head in disagreement, which only prompts him to continue. "No, you are. You got offered a chance to get out, and you took it. All the Voights did was give you a chance—a chance most people get by birth. But you pulled yourself out. Even though it was easier to stay. You did it. Twice. And that takes strength." It's what he sees in her—the unyielding strength to persevere; to move forward, no matter what. He has seen it so many times when crisis struck in the past. He's pretty sure it's one of the reasons he fell in love with her.

"I had a very convincing motivation the second time," she tells him, a small smile playing on her lips. It took her a long time, before she could think about that day without flinching or crying. It still fills her with sadness that she let down her partner—Hanks words haunting her forever.

 _I keep thinking, this never would have happened if I had another pair of eyes in there. Your eyes. Then I'm not watching Halstead being tortured like an animal._

"Glad to be of service," he turns the whole thing into a joke, because they've cried over it enough. She wraps her arms around his neck, just locking their eyes for a second.

"I love you." It's the second time she's uttered those words lately, and not even those exact ones. It feels liberating to say it. It feels right. "Thank you for coming with me. You made it easier."

Though tempted to repeat his early quip about being of service, he doesn't. "Always," he murmurs instead, hoping that the simple word manages to convey all the things he'd do for her. "Are you glad you went?"

"Yeah. I think I finally made peace with some parts of my past. They're a part of me, but they don't define me anymore."

He nods, glad that the visit had served its purpose. From the very beginning, it was clear to Jay that it wasn't just about the clothes. Pressing a kiss against her forehead, he smiles at her yawn. "Bed?"

"I think there is still a mess in there …"

"We can put it away in the morning. Maybe bring some of my boxes here?"

She grins at him, knowing that it's taking everything inside of him to leave the mess till morning. Discarding her shirt, she follows him to the shower, knowing just the way to show him how grateful she is.

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, so here is the thing. This longer break left me more insecure in my writing than ever before, so if you could leave a review to let me know if you liked it, that would be amazeballs!**


	34. Nightmares

**A/N: May I interest you in a fic?**

 **I have to say, I've been positively surprised with the feedback lately. You guys are the best! Thank you for all your comments, I love reading them, even when I don't have time to reply. That said, don't you dare slack off okay? Deal? Good.**

 **I would like to express my eternal gratitude to my beta quesera1. You da best.**

* * *

 ** _Prompt #33: Nightmares_** **\- She woke up in his arms and it took him a while to convince her that it wasn't real.**

Word count: 1,449

* * *

In her lifetime, Erin has experienced different nightmares. Some mirrored her childhood fears of being hungry and cold and alone again. Some were about other tragedies, like Yates and losing Nadia. But by far the most terrifying ones—the ones that keep her up at night—are about losing Jay.

The first time she dreams about it is around the time of the shooting in the bar. Between the hit put out on his life and his bartender friend getting shot, even solving the case and eliminating the threat does not reassure her subconscious. She wakes, drenched in sweat, heart hammering wildly in her chest, as she is gripped by a crippling fear that he is gone—her best friend and partner.

It seems unthinkable. The late—early—hour of the night does not even cross her mind, as she reaches for the phone, speed-dialling Jay. She bites her lip, overwhelmed with nerves. But she has nothing to worry about. He answers after a few beeps, almost as if he weren't asleep either.

His voice tells another story. It's laced with trouble and heavy sleep. Erin feels almost guilty for having woken him up.

"Is everything alright?" Jay sounds utterly confused on the phone, and quite worried.

Erin hurries to ease his mind. "Everything is fine. I just wanted to check that you were okay. I'm sorry for waking you up."

There is a brief silence on the other side, as he contemplates what to respond. "I get it. Close call, right?"

She gulps, remembering the moment of frustration when Jay was alone with a hitman, and she was hitting the dashboard, because they couldn't get to him fast enough. "Yeah. Close call."

"I'm alright." Even though Jay is a great detective, and she highly suspects that he has figured out her reason for calling, he doesn't say a word about it. His voice on the other side calms the reeling mind that her all-too-vivid nightmare left behind.

"I'm sorry again. Goodnight."

"No need. It's kind of cute that you worry. Night, Erin."

 _Night,_ she echoes after ending the call. She lets his words and the tone of his voice lull her back to sleep.

* * *

Since then, it has presented itself in many variants, but the recurring theme is always the same. He dies, and she can't do anything to prevent it.

After Jay's abduction they got worse. For weeks the same thing tormented her—she is always too late—too late, too slow, too weak to save him. Even Hank brought it up one time at breakfast, but she blamed it all on the detoxing and removed herself from the conversation as soon as she could. The last thing she needed was Hank knowing who she dreams about.

The only thing that has essentially changed since then, is the fact that Jay is sleeping next to her now. So when she wakes up in the middle of the night, startled and upset, his arms go around her almost instantly, providing the reassurance and comfort her body and mind crave.

"What was it about?" He asks quietly, careful not to startle her any further. She appreciates his efforts, but for some reason, she doesn't want to tell him, even though he is all too familiar with the nastiness of bad dreams. She has woken him up from one many times before.

Erin shakes her head. "Don't remember."

He looks at her, reluctant, almost as if he doesn't believe her words. But he lets it go, instead pulling her against him, until she settles her head on his chest, where it feels safe.

It doesn't take long before she drifts again.

* * *

"Hey," he murmurs softly, as to not disturb the quiet of the night. "Can't sleep?"

He can tell something is troubling her, but she hasn't been all that willing to talk to him about it. Guilt sweeps over him, because he has been too consumed by his own feelings to really push her to talk about hers.

They haven't even spent much time together since Terry's funeral. Jay had a couple of days off and she had to work. And he might have pushed her away a bit, needing space to deal with the negative emotions, even though she has made it crystal clear she is there for him.

"Yeah," she confirms, going through the fridge in search for something to eat. She isn't even hungry. She just needs to do something to shake the dreams. "I'm okay, go back to sleep."

"You can talk to me, you know? Despite everything." Erin looks at him with those eyes that keep taking his breath away. He gets lost in them, before noticing the pain, the heartbreak. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." But the tears in her eyes tell him otherwise. Her hand cups his cheek with a tenderness she rarely possesses. She has decided long ago that she never wants to take him for granted, so the words make their way out despite her reluctance to share. "I'm just happy it wasn't you."

It dawns on him then, that she has been carrying all the pain by herself, because she didn't want to burden him with it. She was sheltering him, just like—he supposes—he would do if he were in her shoes. But as much as he went through something that day, she did too. And he has failed to acknowledge that in any way.

Her shaking hands and tiny voice come back to him now, remembering how she held him right after he came in. _I heard on the scanner._ For a brief moment, he tries putting himself in her shoes, and knows he would be terrified to the bone if the situation were reversed.

"I'm okay. I'm here." They both know the words come out because it is what she needs in that moment. Hesitantly, she takes two steps forward, until she can lean her cheek against his bare chest, resting it on top of the very proof he is alive—his heart.

"Do you want to tell me what the dream was about?" He asks, but her head shakes in response. "But you know you can? I'm always here for you. Even if I'm dealing with stuff."

He hasn't been in touch for the past two days, and he feels guilty about it, but they are made from the same cloth, and she understands his need for space. She also knows it can be a slippery slope—pushing people away. "I know."

"Good. You still hungry?"

Erin nods, craving something to calm her upset stomach. She knows how lucky she is to have found somebody who truly knows her when Jay gets his phone and orders pizza for the two of them. They eat together, sitting on the kitchen counter. Their legs are close enough to touch and her head occasionally leans on his shoulder.

After their stomachs are full, and their minds calmed, she lets him lead her back to bed, where she snuggles against him, knowing that the intimacy between them is the best cure for bad dreams.

* * *

The next time it's worse. The tears stream down her face as she openly weeps in his arms. His hands stroking her back manage to calm her down, and she admits to herself that maybe she does need to say it. Maybe saying it will help her deal with it.

It is the night she breaks, admitting that her worst fear is losing him.

He stares at her for a long while after, her hand warm in his. His expression is stunned and a little sad—not what she expected.

"Mine is too," he admits finally. "Some of the worse dreams are from the army, but most of them are about losing you. They come after close calls, like you going in without backup and getting yourself kidnapped."

He is never going to let her live that one down, she thinks. At a loss for words, she reaches out, stroking his cheek gently. There is a new understanding between them. Having confessed that, there isn't much else they keep a secret from each other these days—at least when it comes to the important things.

But there is also heaviness pressing against their chests. Because in their line of work, there are no guarantees. No promises. And the dreams that most people dismiss as just bad dreams, could come true all too quickly for them.

The only thing left to do, is to take nothing for granted and love each other every day like it's their last. And as he kisses away the bitter aftertaste of her dreams, that is exactly what they do.


	35. Boxing

**A/N: Hi there! I hope all my lovely readers are having a great week so far :) Forgive me if this isn't good, I'm a little rusty with smut. I'll appreciate your feedback!**

 **Huge thanks to my beta quesera1 for editing and moral support and for just being an awesome human being.**

* * *

 _ **Prompt #34: Boxing - "I'm pretty sure that doesn't qualify as boxing anymore," she teased with a mischievous grin.**_

Word count: 1,223

* * *

"Give me one more. That's it. Nice!" Even though this is purely for practice purposes, Jay can't help but get distracted by the muscles on her legs every time she gives him a high kick. He's pretty sure he's been literally ogling her for the past couple of minutes, and so have all the other guys in Antonio's gym. With one pivotal difference—Jay gets to go home with her.

He knows with perfect clarity what it's like to have every inch of Erin's toned legs wrapped around him. And they may see the shape of her perfect glutes through the workout clothes, but he's the one who knows what's underneath. That knowledge was the only thing keeping him from throwing punches at people for the hungry glances they were sending in his girlfriend's direction.

All of the sudden, she tries to attack, and his absent-mindedness nearly costs him his badass reputation. But his quick reflexes allow him to pin her to the floor of the ring instead.

"Nice try," he tells her when she offers him a sheepish smile.

"I'm not sure this still counts as boxing." Erin wiggles her eyebrows up at him. She is painfully aware of the drops of sweat trickling down his neck, and of his knee positioned between her legs in a way that is making her swallow. Lately, it seems his presence is all it takes for her to get going.

And judging from his cocky expression, he is well aware of it too.

"Then maybe we should call it a day," he rasps in her ear, lowering his head to get even closer to her. Since people are starting to stare, he gets up on his feet, offering her a hand. She takes it, and he pulls her off the floor.

"I'm gonna take a shower," she murmurs to him, as she gets her towel from her bag. Throwing him a disarming look, she walks away, leaving him to stare after her for a minute.

"How about we save water?" When he joins her, she has already gotten rid of her leggings and shoes. As he steps into the stall, her lips crash against his almost immediately—her hands already peeling off his sweaty workout attire without losing precious time.

Jay lets out a soft groan when her lithe body presses against his. She tastes like salt and morning coffee, and he realizes she could taste of whatever, and it would still be his favourite taste.

"You little minx," he accuses, helping her pull off the sports bra. He fills his hands with her curves—the soft skin of her breasts is slightly damp from her workout and provides a startling contrast to his calloused hands. Erin responds with a breathy moan, discarding the rest of her clothes, before finally turning on the water. They step under the stream, letting the hot water wash them clean.

"You're the one who started this," she retorts, even though she doesn't mind starting her day with hot shower sex. Not at all.

Her back hits the cold tiles of the shower as his hands soften the landing. Smiling up at him, she locks her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. They pause briefly, just taking each other in, before diving in like they are each other's oxygen.

Erin reaches for the soap and starts washing his chest first, lathering up his torso before moving down. He lets her have her fun until she reaches too far down. Then his breathing intensifies and his hand takes a hold of hers to stop her.

"We are going to be so late for work," he says, swiftly turning her around, so her back is facing him. The soap lands on the shower floor with a loud thud, as he tugs on her hair to gain access to her neck. He loves sucking on the soft skin just waiting for his mouth, almost forgetting that Erin is going to kill him if he leaves another hickey. His palms cup her breast, teasing the sensitive skin until she whimpers.

"So late," she agrees, biting her bottom lip in anticipation. His erection presses against her back, before slipping between her thighs, so close to where she wants it—aches for it really—for the pleasure she knows is coming. Every touch of his only serves as a reminder.

It has been a busy couple of weeks, and they haven't clocked in as many bedroom hours, as they would have wished. Sometimes a case keeps them so busy, they barely have time to eat or sleep. The lack has left Erin needy and impatient, which, as always, brings out his teasing side.

He doesn't thrust in all at once, instead prolonging the moment by sliding into her, inch by inch, until she's squirming underneath him, cursing him in a low voice. It's probably a good thing that she can't see his smug smile.

"Please," she manages in a soft voice, bracing herself against the tiles. Finally, he thrusts all the way in with ease, his move filled with a hunger mirroring her own.

His hand pins both of hers against the wall above their heads, as he starts moving slowly. At the feeling of being buried deep inside of her, he groans in her ear, while slipping his other hand between her legs to rub her clit.

"Fuck, Jay." She tries to keep it low, but there is no stopping the moan when he presses her body against the cold tiles, picking up his pace. The only thing keeping her from collapsing as he pushes her over the edge are his arms holding her up.

The days of wanting only intensify the pleasure as she leans back against him, enjoying one of the best orgasms she's had in a while. The sole purpose of their exercise was to alleviate some tension the case has left behind, but ironically enough, sex was the answer all along.

His breaths become shorter, faster, and so do his thrusts. Her low groan is what ultimately pushes him over as well. They just stand there—him still deep inside of her—while they regain the ability to breathe and move. The water still pours down on them as he finally pulls out, and she turns to touch his chest gently.

The vulnerable moment is interrupted by the sound of footsteps. They smile at each other knowingly. If anyone would have walked in moments ago, they would have been caught in the act, because there was no way either of them could have stopped—not even for a pretence of civility.

Jay picks up the soap Erin dropped before and returns the favour of lathering her skin. Their lips meet in a sloppy kiss, but one lacking the earlier intensity.

"At least now I'll be able to focus on work," she comments, as they get dressed.

"Thank god. Maybe now you can stop devouring me with your eyes across the bullpen. I think people are starting to notice."

"Me? You are the one who can't keep your hands to yourself."

"Guilty as charged," he teases. "What are you going to do, officer? Arrest me?"

"Maybe."

They continue their sexually charged bickering all the way to the precinct, as they walk in late for work, but all the happier for it.


	36. Pizza, Beer and Sex

**A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for the patience with this chapter. Sadly I didn't quite return from my trip as rested as I thought, but I'll still try to hurry with the next one (if you promise to leave me reviews on this one *wink*).  
**

 **Thanks to quesera1 for being my amazing beta :* If you haven't checked out her fic Home yet, YOU GOTTA!**

* * *

 _ **Prompt #35: Pizza, beer, and sex. - **Or the otherwise called, The Linstead special.**  
**_

Word count: 1,275

* * *

"Are we still on for dinner tonight?"

Erin exhales softly and closes her eyes. Her fingers rub her eyelids to chase away the tiredness setting in. "Dinner. Right, yeah."

It's their date night—the night of the month when they do something special together. It usually includes dressing up a bit and going out, and it almost always ends up with them enthusiastically stripping each other out of their fancy clothes.

They tried doing it once a week, but with their case load, it just wasn't realistic, so their new agreement was to try once a month. And even though Erin cannot imagine a better way to spend the evening than sitting across from Jay, enjoying his gorgeous face, she is tired, in a desperate need of a shower and honest to god cranky.

But neither of them has cancelled once since they started this tradition, and she is not about to start. Hoping that wearing a pretty dress will make her feel better, she swallows the bitter feeling of resentment, or whatever it is that's boiling up inside of her.

But Erin doesn't quite get to the dress part, or even the shower part. Not long after she gets home and pretty much curls into a fixed position on the couch, she hears a knock on the door.

"Coming," she yells, wondering who it could be. Jay has a key, and other visitors range from uncommon to non-existent. But it is Jay, loaded with pizza boxes, standing at the door with a gentle smile.

"Sorry for knocking, I couldn't get to my keys."

"What are you doing here? I was just about to hop in the shower." Her minds buzzes with questions about why he's there.

"I cancelled the reservation," he explains, walking into the kitchen and unloading the boxes. All she can do is stare in bewilderment as her boyfriend takes over her kitchen (not that she uses it much) in search of plates. "I figured we were both tired from the case. I thought it would be nice to just stay in. And I could tell you weren't feeling up for it."

Erin could burst into tears right there in the middle of her kitchen. "Why do you have to be so perfect all the time. It makes me feel like I'm the awful one."

"Babe." He stops unloading groceries onto the counter and pulls her into his arms. "I never want you to feel like you can't talk to me, okay? I enjoy going out with you, but I also love staying in and watching the game together. I want you to tell me when it's too hard okay?"

"I didn't want you to feel like I didn't want to spend time with you, but I just don't feel like going out."

"Fair enough. Staying in is fine with me, unless you want me to leave you alone?" Erin shakes her head.

"Just talk to me next time, okay?" He asks, waiting for her nod. Erin hops on the counter next to the pizza box, inhaling its delicious smell. But she can very well enjoy this pizza later, because the fact that her handsome boyfriend is not only hot, but also understanding makes her squirm inside.

"You know, you're really hot when you release your inner house-husband," she tells him, while her eyes practically undress him.

He cocks his brow at her. "Is that so?"

"It's such a turn on," she confirms. Her fingers hook under the hem of his henley and she pulls him closer, parting her legs so he can step between them. "I'm not tired anymore."

"Well, you're in luck, because the game doesn't start for another fifteen minutes."

And Erin knows that he can do a lot in fifteen minutes.

* * *

"This is exactly what we needed," Erin murmurs against his neck. She's plastered all over him—her favourite pillow. She's wearing a Blackhawks jersey that she stole from his closet once, so it's a little big on her, but that's exactly how she likes it.

Her bare legs are entwined with his, and she hasn't felt this content in a long time.

He grunts in response, and she figures it's his way of agreeing. "Thank you for knowing me so well." Her voice is laced with laziness and tiredness, but she also feels the heaviness that's been pressing on her chest all day slowly disappear.

Jay lifts his head enough so that he can press a gentle kiss on her forehead, before they both give into their heavy eyelids and drift to a restful slumber which they desperately need.

* * *

Jay heads to Erin's apartment looking forward to whatever she has planned. Stubbornly, she insisted on making it up to him after, as she called it, she almost ruined their date with her crankiness.

He turns his key, stepping into the apartment, immediately feeling confused.

"Am I in the wrong place or something?" The smell of food invades his nose, and it's not takeout. "Are you cooking?"

"I'll have you know I can cook."

"I never questioned your ability to cook, only to produce something edible," he teases, putting away his jacket. Her disgruntled noises make him chuckle, and he takes the opportunity to come up behind her and steal a kiss.

"What did Voight want?" She asks, focusing on the sizzling sauce that actually looks quite good if not delicious.

"Just letting me know that I've been called as a witness in a case we closed."

"You'll have to wear a suit," she mentions, cocking her eyebrows at him. He knows very well she can't be responsible for her actions when he's in a suit.

"You're the one to talk," he hums, trailing kisses down her spine. She's not exactly dressed for cooking, he notices. The dark red dress hugs her body in all the right places. Because he can, his hands slide down her hips, caressing, until they reach her perfect posterior and squeeze lightly.

"Jay!"

"You can't dress like this and expect me not to touch," he complains, but takes a step backwards so he can further admire her outfit. "Why are you wearing this dress? If I may ask?" It's not a cooking attire, and the curiosity is driving him crazy.

"So you can take it off later."

In hindsight she should not have said that. That much is clear to Erin two hours later, when they're both finally sated and unbearably hungry. Jay admittedly didn't care that later meant later, and her words were too much for him to take.

"I burned my sauce," she says with an adorable pout that he quickly kisses away.

"I'll call for pizza," he says, half a statement, half a suggestion. When she nods, he untangles his limbs from hers to get dressed and search for his phone, giving her the perfect opportunity to admire his naked body from bed.

Soon after he's gone, she pulls on his shirt and follows him. "I love date nights," she murmurs, something dawning on her. It doesn't even matter where they are or what they do. They could be out having a nice fancy dinner or they could stay in for pizza, beer and sex, and he would still be the only person she wants next to her.

"I love that dress," he tells her while he opens the fridge and passes her a beer.

"Glad to hear it. Next time we're going out, though. That way at least you'll have to keep your hands to yourself for a few hours."

Jay chuckles at her words but doesn't say anything else.

He can't wait to prove her wrong.


	37. Babe

**A/N: Here it is! I would like to thank everyone who reviews! I love hearing your thoughts and emotions. They make my day. Also, just so you know, this is set sometime before 3.17.  
**

 **I would very much appreciate feedback if you could spare a second :)  
**

 **Thanks to quesera1 for doing an amazing work editing my fics, I love her. (also she has the best fic so go check it out and help me bug her for next chapter)!**

* * *

 _ **Prompt #36: Babe. - It slipped. It stuck.  
**_

Word count: 2,310

* * *

Is it really possible for one word to have the power to pull you out of a deep pit of despair? Jay never used to think so, but after tonight, he might have to change his mind.

It's way past midnight when he makes it home. Even though the concept of home is awfully foreign to him these days. The apartment, as always, is empty and silent. He should know by now—that's never good. But he pushes through, desperately trying to forget all about the case they worked for a week and a half.

The air coming in through the window is hot and humid, and the flashes somewhere behind the skyline of Chicago are signalling a storm not far behind. Great, just what he needed.

Sighing, he dumps his keys on the cabinet, hangs his jacket on the hook and removes his shoes and lines them up. That's how he likes it. Tidy and organized, so he feels control over at least one area of his life. The total opposite of Erin, who would kick her shoes off without care and leave them there for Jay to trip over when in hurry.

Still, he thinks of her with nothing but affection. Flaws and all, he loves her. The words he hadn't yet said out loud, because he's afraid he'll send her running. The simple thought of her raspy voice and soft hair that fits perfectly in his hands is enough to get him through the next five minutes.

But the silence is excruciating, and by the time he finishes his shower and opens up a bottle of cold beer, the thunderstorm has broken outside. It's not like he's irrationally afraid of it. It isn't some big trigger—otherwise he wouldn't be able to do his job, where shooting is something he comes across every day. It simply makes him uncomfortable, and he doubts he'll get any sleep until it calms down.

His mind is as restless as the sky outside. It keeps going back to the case they finally closed today, even though it didn't quite turn out the way they wanted it to. It's never easy to see what war does to people. Jay knows—better than most people—that the war doesn't stop when you come home. It follows you everywhere. Just like it followed the guy whose body they found today after working a missing person's case. It turned out he wasn't okay, and not even his loving wife and kids were enough to make him stay.

Even the baseball game he put on isn't enough to keep his focus anymore. He keeps thinking of that family—how war ruined it and claimed another victim. In a hopeless attempt to shift his attention elsewhere, he checks his phone. Organizing his e-mails and making a to-do list usually calms him down, but not tonight. The sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach is growing, and he knows he needs to do something that will keep him from spiralling further.

So for once, he does something he almost never does. He reaches out.

 **J: Hey. You asleep?**

The reply comes within seconds.

 **E: Nope, just finished eating.**

She attaches the picture of an empty pizza box, and he smiles involuntarily. He can imagine her, curled up on her comfortable new couch, munching on pizza. It's one of the rare nights they haven't crashed at each other's place, but he guesses they both needed a couple of hours to themselves. He only pauses for a moment before sending his next text.

 **J: Come over?**

There is no reply to that, and he begins to think that maybe she fell asleep after all, or maybe she doesn't want company, when he hears a key turning in the lock. His shoulders immediately relax as he gets up, and he feels like he can breathe better because she's there.

"Hey," she murmurs softly, walking straight into his arms. He notices the jacket she threw on the floor nonchalantly and the shoes she kicked off, but none of that matters, because he can inhale her familiar scent, and all is right in the world.

His lips search for hers with an almost desperate need. He just needs her—to get lost in her gentle touch and her sweet lips and to let her love envelop him, swallow him whole. He just needs her, because she is the only thing that can make the toxic images invading his mind evaporate.

Erin returns the kiss, without a word of protest when his arms reach for her a bit rougher than usual. Her hands grab the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, and he takes that as a sign that she's okay with it.

Jay has always prided himself in being a gentleman—in caring about his partner's needs—but when he looks back on this moment later, there is none of that. Her bright eyes heat something inside him to a boil, and he snaps. He takes, and takes, and then he takes some more. The gentle touches are gone, replaced by his bruising fingers on her skin as he almost tears off her clothing so he can feel the intimacy between them.

He fills his hands with her breasts, and his mouth crushes down on hers again, his teeth nipping roughly into her lip. She gasps softly but doesn't stop him. Instead, she gives. Without reluctance, without limits, she gives.

The violent greed is beyond his control. For once, he is unable to stem it or hold it back. He does something he's never done before—at least not in the years since he returned from overseas.

He surrenders his precious control and lets go.

Then his hands are everywhere, claiming every inch of her skin with his rough palms. Her back hits the wall, and she lets out a loud moan, blurring the line between pain and pleasure.

When he drives into her, his mouth swallows her scream, and it gets softened by his unsteady breaths. He thrusts hard, fast, slamming her back into the wall with each movement. But she looks like she's beyond caring—like she has followed him straight to the darkness that he's been trapped in.

His climax rips through him with razor-sharp claws. As his one need is finally fulfilled, his vision turns red until awareness comes back to him gradually. He begins to take in the dim light of the living room, Erin's damp face, and his ragged breaths.

Shadows of regret fall over his face as soon as he realizes what he's done. Her eyes are still clouded by the veil of desire, but her hand is laying gently on his shoulder. He can't understand how she can even touch him.

He buries his face into her neck, unable to stop the sobs that shake his body. Erin stays there, her legs shaky and her damp skin trembling, but she stands there, holding him up until he's calm enough to lift his face and look at her.

"I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," she promises, cupping his face so tenderly it makes him want to cry. He disagrees. "You didn't take anything I wasn't willing to give, Jay. You don't have to be in control all the time."

He searches for something in her eyes. For anything that would negate the words she just spoke—but it isn't there. There is just unwavering support and the love they haven't put into words yet, but it's there, clearer than anything ever was. He realizes he doesn't need her to say it, as long as she keeps looking at him like he's not broken beyond repair.

They head to bed, and he doesn't even pick up the scattered clothes as he carries her to the dark bedroom. The gentleness with which he lays her on the bed is a direct contrast to his earlier moves. She curls into a comfortable position on her side of the bed, waiting for him to join her.

He does, letting her use his chest as a pillow, watching the silhouette of her body in the shadows of the street lights. Her chest moves as she breathes, and the calm enveloping them seems almost unreal. Despite the thunderstorm that's still raging outside, Jay feels that his storm has passed.

"Night, babe."

Her voice is sleepy and low, but the words are clear. He freezes at the unfamiliar word, before his lips slowly spread into a smile. His entire body feels warm and comfortable. At home.

Despite his initial reluctance, he feels himself pulled into a peaceful slumber, no doubt thanks to the brunette currently sleeping next to him. And everything in the world is better because she is there.

* * *

The thunder is replaced by heavy rainfall by the time he blinks his eyes open in the morning. Erin's warm body is still curled up next to him, and she looks as peaceful as he feels. Glancing at the alarm clock, he shudders. It's almost eleven, and he can't remember the last time he slept in so late.

He carefully untangles her limbs from his, so he can get up. She still groans, feeling the loss of heat and the change in weight on the bed. He darts to the bathroom and back, wondering if he should go make coffee.

"Come back," she pleads, opening one eye. It settles his dilemma, and with no objection, he joins her in bed. Erin promptly intertwines her legs with his, just the way they were before he got up, and then she sighs with content. "You okay?"

She still hasn't opened her eyes, but he guesses she's awake enough to hear him at least. He figures he at least owes her an honest answer.

"Yeah. Better. You?"

"Great," she murmurs with a genuine tone. He pauses, and he's just about to say something else, when she interrupts him. "Don't you dare apologize again."

"I wasn't going to."

She opens her eyes long enough to roll them at him. He chuckles before continuing. "I was going to thank you."

"For what?" Her eyes open for real this time, as she ponders his face.

"For being you." _For always giving me exactly what I need before I know I need it. For holding me up when I need it. For knowing me like you do—demons and all—and still looking at me the same. For loving me like you do._

"Anytime."

She deems the conversation finished, so she lowers her head back down, deciding to catch some more sleep. He joins her, quietly wondering if _babe_ was going to make an appearance again, or if it was just a one-time thing.

* * *

He doesn't have to wait long for it to slip again.

"Babe, are you done with that report?" It slides off her tongue like she has been saying it for years, and not like it's something fresh and new. So new, he's still getting used to it. But he knows one thing—he likes it.

Jay can literally feel everyone in the bullpen still and quiet down. It doesn't last long, but the glances they all throw at them are spectacular. He grins at Erin as she rolls her eyes at him, which she does a lot to be honest.

The effort to stay professional at work has always been a priority for both of them, but even more so for Erin, because of her relationship with Hank. But sometimes, it's just hard to completely separate work from their private lives.

"I swear sometimes I forget you two are dating." That's Atwater.

"Babe? Why not honey?"

Of course, Ruzek had to have some sort of comment. Now she'll probably never use the word _babe_ again. He groans in his mind, but Erin just shrugs it off and continues with work, trying to hide the soft blush on her cheeks—invisible to anyone who doesn't know her like he does.

"Here you go, babe." He speaks the words in a low voice, in case Voight is lurking anywhere in the shadows, dying to catch them unprofessional to have something to be grumpy about. But the rest of the unit can still hear and see their unusual display of affection. They just don't care that much.

Erin gives him one of her best smiles, and when he passes her the file, she brushes her fingers against his. He wonders if there will ever come a time when a simple touch like that doesn't make his day one hundred percent better.

* * *

"So, babe, huh?" If he could see her face, she would surely be rolling her eyes again, but her face is turned away from him.

"I'm not the _sweetie_ type of gal," she responds cheekily, enjoying in the way his arm is heavy on her hip, tethering them together. His hot breath tickles her neck a little when he chuckles, and she can't imagine a better feeling.

"I like babe."

"Me too." Her voice is already laced with sleep, drifting away from him. "Night, babe. Love you."

He stills. His heart is threatening to burst or jump out of his chest or literally give out. He tries to normalize his breathing, noticing she's already asleep. It takes him a while to join her, with those two innocent words echoing in his mind.

She never brings it up, so neither does he. She most likely doesn't even remember it. But even though it takes her a while before she can say it awake and sober, this is just the first of the many times the words slip from her lips for his ears only.

And every single time, he softly whispers it back, waiting for the time when he can say it back without the fear she'll hear him.


	38. Double Date

**A/N: This fic is slowly coming to an end, so enjoy it while it still lasts. Also I changed this prompt because I no longer like Will.  
**

 **I want to thank my beta (and friend) quesera1 for always taking the time out of her busy life to edit for me.  
**

* * *

 ** _Prompt #37_ : _Double date. - Erin and Jay. Antonio and Sylvie. Enough said._  
**

Word count: 2,707

* * *

"Jay, hi!" It's the cheerful blonde that notices him first, shopping for groceries. He notices a familiar figure next to Sylvie and grins as a hello.

"Hey, Sylvie, Tony."

Even though Jay knew about something going on between those two, it's still odd to see them together. Especially because Jay still remembers dinner at Dawson's house. But Antonio looks more relaxed than Jay has seen him in a while, and he suspects the woman next to him has a great deal to do with that. And as long as his friend is happy, Jay doesn't have a problem with it, like he knows that some people do.

"How is Erin?" Sylvie asks enthusiastically, while Antonio fights the urge to roll his eyes.

"She's good. We were hungry, so she roped me into getting us something to eat."

"Sounds like Lindsay," Antonio is quick to agree and the three of them laugh.

"Well to be fair she stayed home to do laundry," Jay admits, feeling regretful that he doesn't get to watch her get all domestic. In his defence, she looks absolutely smoking when she's separating _their_ clothes into different piles, scrunching her nose while thinking which goes where, and it's really not his fault that they usually end up using the sheets once more before washing them.

"You know what, we should all hang out together soon! Let's meet up for drinks tomorrow!"

Somewhere deep inside Jay knows this is a tremendously bad idea. He and Erin have never been the type of couple to go on double dates—they don't even go on that many dates alone. But the way in which Sylvie is looking at him, so hopeful and joyous has him nodding his head. He glances at Antonio who looks exactly how Jay is feeling—like this is going to be awkward as hell.

Jay mumbles an excuse, and walks away with the groceries in his hands, hoping to exit before she ropes them in for a weekend getaway too. That woman is just impossible to say _no_ to.

And while he's waiting for his turn to pay, he can't help to think that Erin is going to kill him.

* * *

"You did WHAT?"

Jay groans in agreement. He knew this is going to be her reaction, and right now, he can't say he disagrees. He looks at Erin, who is fighting an internal battle, because he knows she likes Sylvie. The girls have gone out together before, and even though she has never explicitly told him, Jay can tell she enjoys the outings.

"I'm sorry, babe." At the use of the familiar pet name Erin shoots him a dirty look. "Look, she's so hard to say no to. But if you really don't want to go, you can call her and cancel. I'm sure she won't mind."

"Oh, no. You're the one who got us in this mess, you be the one that gets us out!"

But in the end, Erin is the one to call Sylvie. Jay can hear her voice from the bedroom, as he lounges on the couch, waiting for her to join him, but he can't hear what she's saying.

She plops down on the couch next to him soon after. He takes one glance at her and knows exactly what happened.

"You got Sylvied."

"I got Sylvied," she admits, hiding her face into a pillow. What was meant to be a cancellation call, turned out to be a confirmation call with details about the location, which is actually a place Erin has wanted to check out for quite a while. "We're having dinner tomorrow at seven."

"This is gonna be so awkward," she complains. "I don't like mixing work and personal life. Especially not dating life."

"I know. Even though you did make me have dinner with Hank, who is also my boss, so talk about mixing work and personal life." She makes a cute scrunched face at him. "I promise I will make it up to you."

Her eyes shine bright at those words, and as she straddles him on their favourite couch, he has a feeling he won't have to wait long to do just that.

* * *

Most of the time, Jay is well aware that his girlfriend is hot. All he has to do is look at her to be reminded. But occasionally, she still manages to cause his jaw to drop on the floor. Since they don't go out much—partly because of the job, and partly because they actually like staying in—she doesn't get to doll up often. But when she does, he loves looking at her. And since moving in together, he gets to watch her do it.

She stands barefoot on the bathroom tiles, because she refuses to put on high heels one second too early. She's so tiny she has to stand on her tiptoes in her flirty blue dress. It reminds him that he really needs to move the mirror a couple of inches lower so she can reach it without standing on her toes, but for now he enjoys the view the curve of her bottom is providing.

She is currently doing something to her lashes that looks like a combination of skill and torture to Jay, and he doesn't dare to even move, afraid he will cause her to gauge her eye out.

"I am one lucky man," he mentions, sitting on the closed toilet seat casually in his dark dress pants and a jacket. "Though you look beautiful every day."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," she purrs back, finally turning to face him. In one lustful second, he wishes they could stay here, so he could rip off her dress and kiss off the sinful red lipstick she's wearing. But they are already running late.

"Later," he promises, and she raises a brow at him.

"You should be so lucky."

* * *

It is not as bad as they expected, even though the amount of PDA Sylvie and Antonio are displaying is making both of them uncomfortable. Their tactic is to engage them both into a conversation, so they don't have time to make googly eyes at each other, and occasionally they send each other a knowing glance of sympathy.

"Moving is such a hassle. I had to move out because of my landlord, but god, every time I move, I say I'm never doing it again," Sylvie mutters, her hands flying all over the place as she explains it.

"Yeah, I've been there." Jay throws her a painful glance. He has had to move a while back, and even though moving in with Erin made him happy, the move itself was anything but fun. Surprisingly, Erin turned out to be the laid-back one, preventing Jay to have a meltdown while doing it. He is pretty certain there are still things shoved to the back of some closet that are not completely organized, but for the time being he has decided to let that go and simply enjoy living with Erin.

"You know, if you need any help, you can always ask."

"I'm actually looking for a good deal on a couch. I need a new one. You know anyone?"

"Yeah, Jay, do you have a couch guy?" Erin asks innocently, biting her bottom lip. A soft, barely visible blush appears on his face. Not enough for Antonio or Sylvie to notice, but to Erin it was obvious. Jay curses in his mind. Erin has had two glasses of wine, and wine can make her very cheeky.

"I can check in with someone I know. But maybe Erin should give you advice, she got a really good deal not too long ago. Function and form, right babe?"

He calls her _babe_ on purpose, because he knows she doesn't like using it in front of other people. But he turns out to be underestimating her, because he feels her hand on his thigh, caressing gently. He gulps and shoots her a look.

"Right, babe. I'll get you a number," she tells Sylvie, while remembering vividly all the memories they made on that couch. Two can definitely play this game. "That was definitely a great couch. Rare combination, function and form, don't you think?"

Sylvie and Antonio stare at her confused, completely unaware of the meaning behind those words.

For the next two hours, Erin and Jay let Sylvie and Antonio display all the PDA they want, while they have their own game playing in secret. Hidden innuendoes only they know about, teasing touches underneath the table and the dirty glances they throw each other occasionally serve as a wicked mixture of revenge and foreplay. Though Jay is a good player, Erin is pretty sure she can claim victory after she returns from the ladies' room and casually passes him the lacy piece of underwear under the table.

Judging by his expression, he's feeling really turned on and slightly pissed off, but mostly the former.

"I really like the showers," Erin tells Antonio, when the conversation steers into the direction of his gym. "Very spacey." Jay coughs at that, and Antonio is looking at both of them like they're crazy, but little does he know that they sometimes sneak in a short after-work out encounter in the steamy stalls.

Jay only cocks his eyebrow at her, unable to think about anything but the piece of lace currently safely stored in his pocket. Whatever he was going to say is interrupted by the waiter—who, by the way, cannot stop flirting with his girlfriend. It's almost ridiculous. Like the guy hasn't noticed that Erin is not dining alone, so he keeps making passes at her. What's even more infuriating is the fact that Erin "seems" completely oblivious to it, even though Jay knows all too well she's not. He is left gritting his teeth, which Dawson apparently finds hilarious.

"You know, if you'd show the world she's your woman, this stuff wouldn't keep happening," he tells him, also remembering a similar event at Molly's not too long ago.

With a perfectly practiced move Antonio dodges the piece of bread that Erin chunks at him for that comment, and Jay clenches his jaw, trying to stare him down. The emphasis is on _trying,_ because all Antonio does is laugh at him, making Sylvie join in.

They ask for the check, and Antonio insists on covering it, since it was their idea (more like Sylvie's idea) to have dinner. While the waiter is giving him the check, Jay slides his arms down Erin's back, leaning in for a kiss. She is so shocked, she can't properly respond, so his lips touch hers as he makes his claim known to the entire world, but especially to the annoying waiter. Because even though he respects Erin as the independent woman that she is, she is _his,_ and it is either the kiss or breaking the guy in two. Somehow, he thinks she'll forgive him quicker for the kiss.

They pull apart, but not before Erin whispers something into Jay's ear.

"You're hot when you're jealous."

Judging by the looks Antonio and Sylvie are sending them, they heard, but Jay doesn't care. Because knowing that he gets to walk out of here with Erin and go home with her is the biggest reward ever.

* * *

"So, I guess we'll see each other tomorrow?" Antonio asks, glancing casually at Jay's protective hand on Erin's lower back as they exit the restaurant. Jay might not even realize it, but he took Antonio's comment more seriously than he could imagine.

"Yeah, man. Thanks for dinner."

"Yeah, thanks."

They part, and Erin swallows a laugh when the moment they're out of sight, she finds herself pressed against a wall with Jay's tongue down her throat. She moans in response, leaning in and deepening the kiss that she has been yearning all evening long, as he drags her into an abandoned alleyway behind the restaurant.

All the small innuendoes and casual touches become too much to bear. Her whole body is on fire, her skin tingling with anticipation, her breaths shorter by the second. A dull ache settles permanently in her pelvis, and she knows there is only one thing that will make it go away.

She finds herself fighting with Jay's belt buckle, her fingers trembling with need, but skilled enough to undo it. He groans at the touch of her hands underneath his dress pants, his throat tightening with desire when she frees him.

They're in an alley for god's sake. An empty alley, but still an alley. If somebody catches them, they could get arrested. But like every other time, the world shrinks to nothing, and the place or the time doesn't matter. It's a deadly race until the end.

"That was a dirty trick," he mutters, while pulling up her dress, exposing her bare flesh to the chill of the night. It causes her to whimper until she adjusts to it, and almost begins to enjoy it.

"I should do it again," she says with a grin.

"You should. God that was the longest dinner ever. I thought it would never end."

"It's over now," she mentions, whimpering softly when his fingers caress the spot between her legs. "Jay." Her head falls back almost helplessly, heavy with the overload of lust fuelling her moves.

She means to tell him that she's not going to last. That this night has been too much and she just needs some relief, but he is way ahead of her. With a practiced move he hooks his hands beneath her thighs, lifting her enough so he can enter her in one swift move. And with the sound she makes, it's a miracle he doesn't come instantly.

Instead, he tries to last as long as he can, thrusting into her slowly, but evenly, careful not to hurt her back against the rough wall.

"You're mine," he whispers into her neck. "Nobody else's."

"Yes. Yours." And maybe with any other guy, the comment would sting as claim of property, but she knows he doesn't mean it like that. He has never kept her from being her own person, so this slightly possessive side of him that she has discovered after they started dating doesn't bother her—it's the opposite. It is the first time someone wants her so badly they can't wait, the first time someone cares so deeply that the thought of sharing her with anyone is unbearable.

The half cry-half scream she intends to let out is silenced by his lips on hers. She trembles in ecstasy when her body surrenders to the pleasure.

Neither of them speaks for a while. It takes them a couple of minutes to gather themselves as they clean off and fumble to put their clothes back to where they belong. They are heading back to the car when he slips his arms around her waist, and she leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder.

Moments after they get into the car, Erin falls sound asleep. Jay's lips spread into a slightly cocky grin, followed by a wave of tenderness as he carries her up the stairs, knowing perfectly well that she can't be sleeping through that, and is simply using him so she doesn't have to walk. But he doesn't mind.

"Thanks for the ride," she rasps into his ear, grinning. "Literally and metaphorically."

"Minx."

If he thought he loved watching her get ready, it is nothing compared to watching her take off her makeup and get ready for bed, looking more domestic than ever. It is nothing compared to the image of Erin curling up in _their_ bed, her hair damp, wearing nothing but one of his fresh shirts.

Her eyes are closing, but not quite yet. Lingering in that place between sleep and wakefulness, she waits for him to finish up before she lets herself drift, so she can curl into him and let him throw his arm over her.

"So, that wasn't so bad, was it?" He asks, his question met with an adorable snore. As he buries his head into her hair, inhaling her shampoo, he thinks he will have to wait for her answer before drifting himself.


	39. Vulnerability

**A/N: 12 more to go! Shall I do a sprint towards the end?  
**

 **Huge thanks to my beta quesera1 for putting up with my grammar difficulties.  
**

* * *

 ** _Prompt #38_ : _Vulnerability - He made her vulnerable, and it wasn't a bad thing._  
**

 **Word count: 1,049**

* * *

 **Note: This is set immediately after the previous prompt (The Double Date)**

It's early when he wakes. Not as early as usual, since they got home pretty late last night, but still early enough for the world to be silent—as silent as the city of Chicago ever gets.

Erin is not awake yet. She won't be for at least another couple of minutes—hours being more likely. Jay reaches for his phone to check the time. 6:03. He sighs. He could have gotten an hour more at least, but his internal clock doesn't miss a day. There is also a message from the boss. His eyes flicker to Erin's sleeping silhouette as he opens it.

 **V: No new case today. Be in at 10 to deal with old paperwork.**

Jay smiles. It means that he gets to spend the morning with her. No rushing out to catch bad guys. They can drink coffee for an hour and just be together. He wishes they could more often.

Thinking of that, he turns his attention back to Erin. He doesn't get to watch her sleep often. Or maybe he doesn't take the time often enough. With their schedule, life sometimes seems to slip past them, so a moment when he can take it all in is welcome and appreciated.

She is a sight for sore eyes. Her hair is a wild mess because she didn't dry it the night before, though he imagines it would be as smooth as silk if he slid his fingers through. Her face is more peaceful than ever—beautiful even when bare of the cosmetics she so diligently scrubbed off before bed. Unfortunately, the detective inside of her doesn't let her sleep while someone is watching.

"Creep." Her eyes don't even open, that's how good she is.

"Guilty. You're beautiful when you sleep," he tells her. "You're always beautiful."

Beautiful was not a word she heard often in her life. But since this thing between them started, she has gotten almost accustomed to it. She still remembers the first time he told her she was beautiful on the night they were supposed to go to her high school reunion. Instead it turned into a night that permanently changed things between them.

She remembers how he looked at her before he dropped her off and whispered the word that sounded almost like a prayer on his lips. He said it in a way that she had to believe it—she had to feel it. Looking back, that might have been the moment she fell all the way in love with him.

She never knows how to respond to it, so she doesn't. Instead, she sneaks her hand up until her palm is resting on his cheek in a gentle caress. The soft stubble is prickling her hand, and he is close enough that his warm breath tickles her face. Morning breath or not, she leans in for a simple kiss—more of a peck—but the smile that greets her gesture is more than enough to start her day in an amazing way.

"Sometimes I'm scared that this honeymoon phase or whatever we're in is going to end," she murmurs softly against his chest when they are still lying in bed minutes later. The thought itself fills her with fear. Fear that one day he would look at her without love in his eyes. Her ultimate nightmare.

Jay turns his head to face her. It's very rare that he gets to see her like this—vulnerable and willing to share her thoughts with him. He cherishes the moments even more because of that.

"You're just not used to being happy."

She lifts her head to look at him, because she has a feeling that he is right. Exhaling, she rests her chin on his torso so she can maintain eye contact without straining her neck.

"Maybe not. It's just every time there was something..."

"And now there is nothing."

"I'm just scared that it isn't going to last." Scared that whatever life has planned for her next, it will drive them apart. And with her past—demons are likely to follow.

"Look, I can't promise you we'll always be blissfully happy. That's not life. We both know it. But I can promise you that I'm not going anywhere, and whatever comes our way, we'll figure it out together."

She ponders his promise for a brief moment. "I like that. Together. And you'll never fall out of love with me?"

He stares at her like she's the craziest person alive. As if that were even possible. As if he would be able to breathe without loving her.

"Never," he assures, instead of delving into the twenty-pages-long essay on why his world would not make sense without her.

She nods. "Me neither."

These are the things going through her head sometimes, but she never says them. She used to believe it made her vulnerable to the heartbreak or ridicule. But maybe with Jay, that's the opposite of a bad thing, because whenever she opens up, her chest feels lighter, and she can breathe again.

She throws her leg over him possessively. He's not the only one with this particular trait. She can be quite protective of her man.

"Last night was pretty fun," she comments, wanting to change the subject before she starts tearing up. Pillow talk or not, she has a reputation to maintain.

"You tortured me so much. I was ready to combust."

"Speaking of which, we could have gotten arrested for what we did last night."

"I would gladly go behind bars if it means going out with a bang."

She rolls her eyes at the lame pun. "Well as long as you don't complain when Hank comes to bail me out," she says with a mischievous grin. His face pales shockingly fast, and she can't help but laugh.

"Okay no more public indecency, you've scarred me for life. He would probably bail you out and leave me in for corrupting his little princess."

She pouts at him, her eyes big and pleading. "Not even occasionally?" Now who's corrupting who?

"How about—" he rolls over on top of her in one swift move. "private indecency for now?"

"Works for me," she replies as she lets him seduce her into a morning round of exercise. "For now."


	40. Jay's Guy

**A/N: Hey my lovelies! I haven't forgotten about you yet. I hope you enjoy this. I have the next couple roughly drafted out, so it should be smooth sailing for a few prompts. We're almost at the end anyway.  
**

 **Huge thanks to Sarah a.k.a. queseraone on tumblr . I just wouldn't be able to do this if it weren't for her. She is my eternal supporter and light in the darkest of days.  
**

* * *

 ** _Prompt #39_ : Jay's guy - She caved in on that flat screen, just so she finally got to meet one of Jay's guys.  
**

 **Word count: 1,105**

* * *

"I'm home," Erin calls out, enjoying the fact that there is now someone who can hear her since she no longer lives alone. Kicking off her shoes the minute she walks in, she curses herself. She knew she would regret wearing her new boots to work right away before breaking them in, and a bloody blister is the proof of her bad decision.

Wincing in pain, she hears voices from the living room, so she takes a step forward until they're in her view. That's when she remembers that Jay's guy was coming over to install the tv. When she agreed to move her posters in favour of a brand-new flat screen, Jay promised her no cables, and she was going to hold him to that.

"Hey, babe. This is Matt, Matt this is Erin."

She takes in the man before her—tall and slender, much like Jay, though not quite as buff. His dark hair is a striking contrast to his green eyes, and when he smiles as a way of greeting, she finds he has a set of dimples matching her own. It immediately puts her at ease.

Smiling back, she offers him a bottle of beer and proceeds to glance at the tv. The nasty looking cables she doesn't like are hidden away—she doesn't know where, and she doesn't care. Since it seems they're all done with the work anyway, they call for a pizza and the two men sit at the dining table while she puts the groceries away.

"So, how do you guys know each other?"

"Uh, we went to school together," Jay replies vaguely, while Matt looks like has more details to offer. He leans forward, taking a sip of his beer before elaborating.

"Yeah, more like we shared an infirmary. That school nurse was like our second mother." Jay's face falls, and it's what prompts Erin to ask another question.

"Infirmary?"

"Let's talk about something else?" Jay pleads, his voice quiet but serious. Serious enough for her to drop the subject immediately.

They share other stories, and Erin finds herself enjoying the insight into a part of Jay's life she didn't know much about. Some of them star Will as well as some other people from Jay's childhood. She really needs to bug Will for some baby pictures.

"I really should get going, but I hope you enjoy the tv, and Erin it was nice meeting you. I'm glad Jay has found someone who makes him happy."

Her boyfriend blushes adorably at that, and she smiles warmly. "It was great to meet you too. Let's do this again sometimes, I'm sure you have more stories to embarrass Jay with."

"Same goes for you."

"Oh, you have no idea."

As soon as she closes the door, Jay lets out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. Mixing his past and present might not have been the best idea he has ever had. So far, he's managed to keep those parts of his life pretty separate—for good reason. It's not exactly that he is ashamed of who he was back then, but that thinking about it still hurts, and he hates that it does.

"Babe? You okay?" Her soft whisper breaks him out of his thoughts.

"I'm fine. What did you do to your foot?"

She glances down to see her blister open and bleeding. "New shoes," she explains before grimacing at him, "Ouch."

"Sit on the couch, I'll get a band aid."

Erin obeys, because his voice really doesn't leave room for negotiation. Besides, it's kind of nice to have someone to kiss your boo-boos once in a while. He returns with a first aid kit and sets it next to him without speaking.

"So, are most of your _guys_ acquaintances from school?"

He shakes his head, chuckling as she winces loudly when he presses a cloth against her blister. "Don't be a baby. It's just a little sting. I gotta clean it so it doesn't get infected."

"I'm not a baby," she says with a pout. "Where do you know them from then?"

"Mostly from the military, some are CI's. Some guys from the Academy doing odd jobs to save some money." He pauses, focusing on finding the right size of band aid. "I didn't have that many friends in school," he adds reluctantly.

"The comment from before, were you in the infirmary because you were bullied?"

He doesn't look up, his eyes glued to her foot, but his head nods to confirm her suspicion.

"Punched, kicked, pushed into a wall. That kind of thing."

Her hand hovers above his before touching it lightly. Her heart breaks a little for that boy who had nobody in his corner, nobody to make life easier for him or treat his wounds.

"I'm sorry, babe. I wish I'd known you back then. I was a badass, I would've kicked all their asses."

"Thanks?" He offers her a dim smile. "And you're still a badass."

"I am." She grins. "Thank you for noticing."

How could he not, when he spent his days watching her in action. She could easily take down men twice her size and he was immeasurably proud of her.

"Sorry if I was abrupt earlier. I just don't like talking about it."

"I guess that's fair. I just—sometimes I feel like I don't know that much about you. You don't like talking about your childhood, your military days, and I get it. But you know everything about me." Sometimes it bothers her—how little of himself he shares with her. She hasn't even met his family, with the exception of Will.

She gets that there are some parts of his life that he wants to keep more private than others, but at this point, she has no idea what he's afraid of. It's not like she's going to run because his family is crazy after he's had to put up with Bunny since before they were together.

"That's fair too," he admits. "What do you want to know?"

They spend the rest of the night talking about things they've never discussed before, and Jay feels as if he gives her another piece of himself that nobody else possesses. He shouldn't be surprised—she's always had a way of making him open up.

When he turns off the tv hours later, not wanting to disturb Erin who's fallen asleep in the middle of _Fight Club,_ he knows that there is nothing he wouldn't share with her, nothing he wouldn't do to make her happy.

Even if that means he has to introduce her to his dad.


	41. Sitting On Each Other's Desk

******PLEASE READ******

 **A/N: Thanks to all the people still passionate about this story. I see you. I see your comments, and they are the ONLY thing keeping me going. I will finish this for you, and only for you. For every single person who takes the time out of their life to write more than "update". Thank you.  
**

 **As you might have seen I am moving my stuff to ao3, and soon I will no longer be posting here, since my stuff will probably get deleted because of copyright infringement. You can find me rosehathaway.**

 **Huge thanks to my beta Sarah, she's the absolute best!**

* * *

 **Prompt #40: Sitting on each other's desks - They both enjoyed the view.**

Word count: 1,503

* * *

"How many times do I have to tell you to get your ass off my desk, Halstead?"

Erin tries to refrain from raising her voice or yelling, but her tone is harsher than usual and doesn't leave room for interpretation. Breathing in, she tries to calm down. She doesn't really mind Jay sitting on her desk. It makes her view infinitely better. But then she also gets distracted—picturing grabbing that ass, wondering how it would feel if she were free to do so.

Erin would bet that it's as firm as a peach. All those muscles. She has seen enough of his body in the locker room (and there was that pool party they attended once) to know that his posterior is no different than the rest. The mere thought has her mouth watering and a dull ache spreading in her lower stomach.

So that's the reason for the harsh tone.

Jay responds with a cheeky grin before removing himself from her desk and sitting on his own. Erin is eighty percent certain that he does it to annoy her, and she silently wishes it would actually _annoy_ her, instead of filling her with sexual frustration. Because Jay sitting on her desk is as close to his ass as she's going to get. For a while at least.

She huffs with disappointment, but doesn't let him know that she immediately misses the view of his back in front of her.

* * *

The first time she sits on his desk is to feel closer to him. Or at least try.

They've gotten into a fight. Not a serious thing by any means, but every cop knows that when you spend that much time with your partner, you're bound to eventually bicker about something. Which, combined with crankiness and tiredness can lead to a full-blown fight.

If you asked Erin what they were fighting about in the first place, she couldn't tell you. That's how stupid it is. But Jay is refusing to talk to her. He gives her the silent treatment at the precinct, silent treatment in the car. He's withholding the one thing that gets her through the long days.

Conversation.

Especially their cheeky, slightly sexually-charged conversations when they're riding to a location. Driving doesn't feel good anymore, and she just wants to push the keys in his hands and tell him he can have the driving privileges, if only he'd talk to her.

So when she reluctantly makes her way to his desk, trying to seem casual, plopping her butt down on the wood, she revels in the grin. It warms up her insides, like a hot chocolate on a winter day. He can't fight it either, she notices. It's the little victory that she's going to let him have, because she misses her partner.

"Are we good?" She asks, facing away from him, so she can't see how smug he looks when she asks the question.

"Yeah," he replies, and Erin exhales with relief.

"Good."

* * *

Soon after leaving Intelligence, Erin finds herself pushed into a corner, or more accurately, against her own desk. She sits on it, watching him come closer.

She swallows hard, realizing that this might be the closest they've been in a while. He comes so close she gets the chance to admire the tiny freckles on his face. Close enough that she can smell the intoxicating fragrance of his cologne mixed with his personal scent that she's gotten well accustomed to.

She glances around, making sure that nobody is lurking around the corner.

"You know," he says, giving her that cheeky smile again. "We no longer work together," he mentions, his voice anything but casual. Erin understands why. These simple words hold too much meaning for them to be casual. They've been waiting for this for too fucking long, and now they're finally free to pursue it. "So a lot of the old rules and regulations—they don't apply anymore," he reminds her, as if she didn't already know.

As if she didn't spend the last week thinking about that same thing. And here he is, telling her that he's still waiting. He is looking at her—his eyes telling her in graphic detail what he would do to her when he got the chance. Reminding her that her body was an instrument meant to be played by his hands alone.

Erin doesn't understand how he does this. He's never even touched her in that way, and yet she knows he would set her skin on fire. How does he make her wish that she could pull his lips down on hers until she couldn't remember her own name? But Lang's interruption reminds her she's in a work environment, acting anything but professional.

Clearing her throat, she follows him to the interrogation room, focusing on work. The conversation—if you can even call one sentence and an eye fuck a conversation—with Jay forgotten for the time being.

But only until she's driving home after they wrap their case that day.

Because as she heads over to his place instead of her apartment, that sentence is all she can think about. Along with the thought that one day finally came.

* * *

After the nights they spend together, it's different when she comes back to work in Intelligence. Of course it's different, because now every time he sits on her desk, she sees the back muscles under his henley and remembers how they feel under her fingers when he's buried deep inside her. Or how his ass feels in her hands when he thrusts, or how his hands feel on her hips when she rides him.

So their bullpen dynamic experiences a shift.

She wonders if the guys notice the electricity sparkling between them. Or the way they start using sitting on each other's desks as some sort of wicked foreplay, challenging each other not to react. Finding some pleasure in being able to watch, but not touch.

They have to refrain from doing it too often, because she knows someone will notice, and she loves their bubble entirely too much to be outed just yet.

It becomes their thing. They do it so often, sometimes they can't tell which desk is their own to begin with. It's a way of saying _I'm sorry, I was wrong._ A way to say _I'm here, do you need anything?_ A soft way of telling each other _I'm on your side._ A quiet way of saying _You're not alone in this._

It's one of her favourite things about their partnership.

Even after Voight forces them to break up, they keep doing it as a reminder that what they have is worth fighting for.

After Nadia, she wishes it was enough. She wishes the way his hand slides behind his back while he sits on her desk would make her heart hurt less, like it always has. She wishes nothing more than to bury her face into his chest and let him comfort her.

But the truth is, she doesn't deserve his comfort. She failed Nadia so miserably, she doesn't deserve anybody's comfort. What she deserves is to suffer in silence for being the reason for her friend's death.

Which is why his hand remains endlessly empty.

And so does her heart.

* * *

"Is this seat taken?"

Jay offers her a warm smile and shakes his head as she slides onto the desk, looking down at what he's working on.

It's her first day back after her… _sabbatical,_ and the rest of the unit is still a bit wary of her being there. She doesn't want to push it, but she does feel a bit isolated, so sitting on her partner's desk, just like she used to, is something that might make her feel better.

"Whatcha working on?"

"Well, we weren't able to find anything on money laundering and we can't get a warrant without probable cause. But what if they slipped somewhere else? If we find something else, we can get a warrant to search the premises. I know this is more of a lawyer's job, but it's worth a shot."

She stares for a minute, loving the way his brain works. Despite the jokes she makes constantly, Erin knows that Jay's is one of the sharpest minds she's encountered. And her heart swells every time he does something to prove it.

"You're right. Give me half of these."

She pulls up a chair, instead of going back to her own desk, and they work in silence side by side, until he startles her by yelling out with success.

"I knew it."

The smile that creeps its way onto her face stays there for the remainder of the evening.

They do it less often, not wanting to risk Voight taking away his blessing, but every time they bicker or fight or just need each other, they can count of the other to sit on the edge of the desk, reassuring them that some things never change.


	42. Past

**Huge thanks to my beta Sarah, who is the bestest of people and I owe her my eternal gratitude for all the work and support she puts into my writing. *blows kisses***

 **I hope you guys like this. We are less than 10 prompts away from the end! Are you happy? Sad? Excited?**

 **I know I'm all of those.**

 **Huge thanks for any kind of feedback you throw my way. I know it NEVER fails to make me smile. And that's pretty awesome, right? Making a single person smile in a day? :)**

* * *

 ** _Prompt #41: Past - She knew there were still things about his past she didn't know, and she knew it wasn't for lack of trust that he didn't tell her. Some demons were simply too painful to dig up._**

Word count: 1,245

* * *

"Jay?"

She pads barefoot out to the kitchen, carrying a load of laundry in a basket. Her hair is pulled up into a messy bun, and she's wearing the last clean pair of leggings she could find.

Their days off have turned into errand days lately. With their heavy case load and no time or energy to do things around the apartment, they use their day off to do laundry and get groceries, so at least they don't starve or run out of clean underwear. They usually go to the store together, but since they slept in that morning, they had to divide and conquer.

So she did the laundry—which was by the way, the only house chore that she was better at than him—and he went to the store.

"It's me. I think I got everything off the list."

She can instantly tell something is wrong. She would be able to tell, even if they weren't living together, because she knows her partner better than most people do. She frowns, the smile slowly fading as she takes in his stoic expression and pale face.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." His reply is snappy, warning.

Shrugging it off, she changes the subject. She knows him, so she knows prying isn't the best decision with Jay. Backing off is safer and will not result in a fight.

"Did you get my ice cream?"

He looks almost pained as he shakes his head. "Forgot. I can go back if you want." The words themselves are kind, but the tone of delivery is rude, making her feel like a huge burden. It hurts her somewhere deep inside.

"No need," she snaps back, knowing that something must've happened in the store or during his journey there and back. "Did something happen?" Her tone softens. "Did you run into someone you don't like?"

The rest of the colour disappears from his face. "Just let it go. Get off my back, will you?" He half yells the last part, continuing to put away groceries.

Erin bites her lip hard to keep herself from saying anything she might regret. Her anger is something she inherited from Bunny, so she's trying to tame it whenever possible. She leaves the room, focusing on the load of laundry in her arms. Separating colours, she breathes in and out, wondering what on earth got into her boyfriend.

Then—because she has nothing better to do, and she doesn't feel like joining him in the kitchen—she cleans the whole bathroom, changes the bed linen and vacuums the bedroom. It keeps her calm and steady, when in reality she feels anything but.

Truth be told, fights with Jay are a rarity. Sure, they'll occasionally say something they don't mean, exchange some harsh words, or have a small fight when they're tired—mostly over stupid things—but it's not something she's used to. And with Jay being the kindest guy, she doubts she'll ever _get_ used to it.

But it hurts all the more when it does happen.

When she emerges from the bedroom, dressed for a run, he's watching tv and doesn't even glance at her as she leaves. He's already asleep when she returns, so she figures their fight will have to last into the next day.

 _Never go to bed angry,_ is the last thing that goes through her mind, before she falls asleep. It was something Camille said to her. A motto she did her best to live by.

 _Well it's too late now._

* * *

When she wakes, there is a definitive feeling of something being wrong, and she doesn't figure out what right away. It's only when sleep slips away when she remembers the harsh words of her stupid boyfriend (that she loves very much).

She opens her eyes to find him gazing at her, the fight that was in his eyes yesterday no longer present, instead replaced by his usual heart eyes.

"Hey," he murmurs, when he notices she's no longer asleep. "I'm sorry."

Since an apology is literally the first thing to leave his mouth, and since she wasn't quite sure why he was mad at her anyway, she lets her lips spread wide, happy that the fight is over. Placing a tentative hand on his hip, she scoots closer, enjoying the closeness that was missing before.

"It's okay. Want to talk about it?"

She knows there are still things about his past she doesn't know, and she knows it isn't for lack of trust that he doesn't tell her. Some demons are simply too painful to dig up. But they have gotten better at communicating, and Jay has confided in her more and more about his time in the military. Combined with going to a support group, Erin could tell that it was working. He seemed lighter somehow.

"I ran into someone yesterday at the store. A woman."

Her heart yelps with pain at the word _woman._ But she shuts it down quickly. If she doubted anything, it was never Jay's fidelity. He never gave her a reason to doubt that. He always made it clear that she was enough for him. That what they had was enough.

"Who was she?" She asks instead, hoping he was willing to share more.

"She was a friend, we served together one tour. Then we ran into each other at a funeral and hooked up."

"Have you seen her since?"

Jay shakes his head as well as he can lying on a pillow. "It made me feel embarrassed. I left her in a hotel room in the morning. I literally used her to make myself feel better and that wasn't something I was proud of."

Not being proud of herself is something Erin is familiar with. Her fingers land on his cheek, gentle and reassuring.

"I get it."

"And then I started questioning everything. Sometimes I don't feel like I deserve you," he confesses.

Her first reaction is to reassure him that he does. It causes her physical pain that he would feel unworthy of her love. She wants to refute it aggressively until he gets that stupid idea out of his head. But instead she finds his gaze with her own and nods. "Sometimes I don't feel like I deserve you either," she tells him, essentially reminding him that they've both done horrible things. But that doesn't define their relationship now.

They are here because they chose to be. They chose each other, despite being flawed. Because they love each other.

"But I love you," she continues. "Maybe I'm selfish, but I couldn't bring myself to leave you. Even if in fact I don't deserve you."

"Maybe I'm selfish too, but I couldn't either."

"So I guess we're both stuck in this very loving relationship. How horrible."

He grins, and she knows she got through to him. Some days all it takes is bit of logic and a whole lot of love.

"I love you," he whispers bashfully, and the sleeping butterflies in her stomach take flight, just like they always do when he vocalizes his feelings for her. It could have something to do with the fact that she didn't hear it often during her childhood, but she thinks it might actually be the fact that every time he looks at her, she falls in love with him all over again.

"Love you too, you dork. Now go make me some breakfast. You owe me for being a jackass."

"Yes ma'am."


	43. Family

**A/N: Hey guys! Happy New Year!**

 **I know I've been MIA lately, but I work in retail, so it was CRAZY in December. I basically slept and worked and nothing else. I hope you can understand.**

 **While I'm busy posting my winter prompts on tumblr, I had this ready for a while and finally got around to editing it. Huge thanks to my beta Sarah for her help! She doesn't only help me with my grammar, but she continuously offers moral support when I want to quit writing and helps me get the tone of the story just right. She also helps with fresh ideas when mine dry out.**

 **And of course there is you. Without you, there would be no reason to edit and post these stories. Without you, I would feel like I'm shouting into the void, so thank you for all your kind words and reviews. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it.**

* * *

 **Prompt #42: Family -** **She coped with his crazy family, which made him love her even more. But he did have to cope with Voight in return, so it was a pretty even situation.**

Word count: 1,718

* * *

"Hey."

Erin bites the inside of her cheek and does everything in her power to stop herself from rolling her eyes at how utterly pathetic the other Halstead brother looks standing at her door with a small carry-on. Despite the fact that he just broke up with his girlfriend and essentially has no place to live, his face still carries a hint of humour—as if well aware of how ridiculous this situation is—but begging nonetheless.

"Come in," she tells him, because 1) she's not about to turn a homeless man away, and 2) this isn't just her decision anymore. It belongs to both of them, and she knows her boyfriend well enough to know that he will take one look at his brother and offer him the couch for as long as he needs it. And since his generosity and kindness are just some of the things she admires about him, it's not as if she has any right to complain.

"Man, you just had to screw this up, didn't you?" Jay asks, with a teasing voice that she imagines is a special thing with brothers, because she recognizes it as one Justin often used with her. Her heart hurts for a moment, at the unexpected memories filling her head, but she waves them off, focusing on the situation. Her grief can wait.

"It's not as if you helped. If you hadn't taken Nat to that hockey game, I never would have realized I wasn't over her."

Jay raises both his brows to make sure his brother understands just how stupid that sentence sounded. "I didn't want the ticket to go to waste, since you blew me off."

"It really doesn't matter right now," Erin tries to be the voice of reason. "Though I do want to know what game with Nat was that?" She glares at Jay. "It's getting late, I'll go get the sheets and stuff."

"Thank you, I'd be sleeping in the staff room if it weren't for you. I'll try not to be too much of a bother."

Erin assures him he is nothing of the sort, but hours later, while she's waiting in her bed for her boyfriend to join her and a drunk Will is yelling something about how badly he screwed up, she might be reconsidering.

* * *

"Where did all the milk go?" She asks Jay, browsing through the fridge. "I clearly remember getting two cartons the last time I went to the store."

Jay shrugs apologetically, knowing the culprit right away.

"Sorry, I'll get you some more," Will promises, and Erin sighs, frustration bubbling inside of her. Will has only been their guest for three days and he has already managed to consume most of their refrigerator's contents, and spill something on Erin's beloved couch (which may or may not have sent her into a fit of rage so wild that Jay had to use all his persuasion tactics to stop her from going after his brother).

"I'm guessing the cereal is gone too?"

Will seems to shrink into his seat even more, and Erin takes a deep breath, reminding herself that this man is heartbroken and family, so he gets a pass.

"We'll get more later. We need to go now," she throws a pointed look at Jay, who doesn't mention they don't have to be at work for another hour and a half. He follows her outside, and since he's a smart self-preserving man, he treats her to a stack of pancakes for breakfast.

* * *

They're running up the stairs like two sex-crazed teenagers. At some point during the day, he remembered it was the anniversary of _one day,_ proceeded to remind her, and all she could do to make it through the shift was think about all the things she was going to do to him when she got the chance.

She's not sure how they even make it up the stairs with their lips constantly glued together, but they do. The fact that their apartment might not be empty doesn't even cross her mind until…

"Ahem," Will makes a noise, afraid that they'll start taking their clothes off in front of him. That is an image of his brother Will just doesn't need at the moment.

Erin and Jay break apart immediately, followed by a frustrated groan from Jay, and an exasperated sigh from Erin, who storms off to the bedroom without a word. The brothers stand there, one moping over the end of his relationship, one dealing with a painful hard-on, but both inevitably flinching at the sound of the door slamming.

"I should…"

Will waves his arm at him to go, so Jay carefully approaches the door. It has happened before that a flying object ended up crashing against his forehead, and he would prefer not to have a repeat of that time. A pissed off Erin is a dangerous Erin, and if you add sexual frustration and a licence to kill, you might as well concede.

"Erin?"

"I'm fine. I'm gonna take a cold shower, and you can order pizza maybe? I don't really feel like cooking, and we have no groceries left."

She's not acting mad, but he can tell by how hard her jaw is that she's pressing her teeth together in anger. "I'm sorry," he tells her earnestly. Because what else is there to say—this is their place now. They both chose this, they agreed to it. And he knows she's not mad at him for giving his brother shelter when he needed it. She's mad, because intentionally or not, her privacy—their privacy—was compromised, and she doesn't know how to act in her own home.

He remembers the time when they started dating—when Nadia was still living at Erin's place, so they more often opted for his apartment. Now, they no longer had that option.

"I know. It's not your fault. It's not like it's forever." At least that's what she hopes.

"Of course not. Also, don't you think I need that shower more?" He asks, sending a pointed look down. Her lips curve into a mean smile as she follows his gaze, landing on his painfully obvious erection. If nothing else, it makes her realize they are in the same position.

"Why don't you take that shower, and I'll run to the store to get some basic stuff? I'm actually out of shampoo."

"Alright. And thank you. For being so understanding about this. I know it's not an ideal situation."

"Your family is my family," she murmurs softly, and marvels at the weight of those words. But however heavy, they are true. He has accepted her family—dinner with Voight, breakfast with Bunny. He never complained (okay he complained little about the Voight thing), and he never judged her for her family.

"I love you."

"Guys, are you having sex in there, or can we order that pizza?"

"We would be, but you're here, so go ahead I guess," Erin yells back, sending Jay into a fit of laughter. She thinks that family might be annoying, but it's not all bad.

* * *

The next time it happens, Jay loses it. He's been on the verge the whole week, because Erin has been holding out, since they have a _guest,_ and he just really needs to fucking get laid.

"Out. Get out and don't come back for the next two hours."

Will throws him a look that's a mixture of an apology and humour, but he doesn't care, because his brother is out the door, and Erin is taking off her shirt and giggling as if this whole thing is hilarious.

"I knew you'd snap," she murmurs into his ear, and he loses all sense of control.

"He's a doctor, aren't they supposed to work long hours? He's always here!"

Erin shushes him quickly, and makes the two hours well worth his time.

* * *

An hour and a half later, they're snuggled together in bed, limbs entwined, when Jay's phone vibrates.

"It's Will, he's asking if we're done with our sexual escapades, and if he can come back."

"Poor guy. We threw him on the street to get some action. Well, you did."

"I need my dose of this," he replies, pinching her ass. She giggles again—a rare playful moment between the two.

"Well, aren't you gonna text him it's okay to come back?"

Jay pouts. "What about round two?"

"Round two? After what we just did, I'm happy I can move my legs."

"Fine, how about some Netflix instead? No chill, I promise," he pleads, wiggling his eyebrows.

They get dressed and settle on the couch, Erin carefully moving away the sheets so they don't get dirty. She curls into a comfortable position, with the remote in her hand and her feet in Jay's lap. He dutifully starts massaging and she finds the shows they haven't finished yet. Only, she doesn't really remember watching any of these.

"Did we watch the Bachelor? The Real Housewives? Did somebody hack our Netflix?"

Jay shakes his head, laughing so much it's hard to catch his breath.

Just in that moment, Will decides to come through the door—to his credit with arms full of groceries.

"Ah, my favourite brother-in-law, you're just in time for the next episode of The Bachelor."

Will blushes bright pink, which is even worse because of the colour of his hair. "Is there something I should know? Sister-in-law?"

Now it's Erin's turn to blush as she hides her face in Jay's chest, mumbling about how that's just the way it's said. She feels Jay laughing, and wrapping his arm around her, but she still manages to fling a pillow at Will to wipe that smirk off his face.

Later, when they're all entranced in a tv show that isn't The Bachelor, Jay rests his head on her shoulder, leaning his forehead against the side of her head. "One day, though."

"One day," she agrees. She shifts her body so that Will's sleeping head falls off her shoulder on the other side. Jay laughs, Will complains, but if she's learned one thing about real family, is that you can pretty much do anything and they will never stop loving you.

And glancing at Jay's sleepy eyes, she thanks the universe for that.


	44. Pillows

**A/N: Hello, my darlings! Do you still remember this? I have it in the back of my mind at all times, I know this is the one you usually wait for the most, aaaaaand I have a surprise, but also I gotta clear this up first.**

 **I know it says pillows... it's not that much about pillows. *hides* BUT if you ever wondered what that emotional Linstead roadtrip from s3 was supposed to be like... LOOK NO FURTHER. I got you covered.**

 **A never-ending thank you to my beta Sarah. At first I wanted to post this unbetad, because I felt bad for sitting on it, but also didn't want to pressure her, but as I was editing before, I'm glad I didn't, Because she makes my writing so much better. I'm so grateful.**

 **And a huge thanks to all of you, who have left comments in this 3,5 month period between updates (I KNOW RIGHT? I'M HORRIBLE). I love you guys. Thank you.**

* * *

 _ **Prompt #43: Pillows - "What about your pillows, babe?" –"I don't need them anymore."**_

 _Word count: 2,520_

* * *

"I can't believe you won't let me drive."

The familiar complaint was voiced over the obnoxiously loud music Jay insisted they needed on their road trip. They had been on the road for less than an hour, and he had already lovingly nagged at her twice.

"You can drive when I get tired," she promised him, lowering the volume of the music by pressing the button on the steering wheel. Jay leaned over to the dashboard and raised it again—something they've been doing since they got into the car. "At least find something decent to blast."

"What are you talking about, this is my flash drive."

Erin glanced at the radio, and true enough, the familiar flash drive was connected to it. She should have known anyway—her boyfriend's music taste was not one of his finest qualities.

"Thank god Voight doesn't know your music taste, he never would have signed off on us."

"I honestly think he would have done anything to make you happy."

Erin shrugged dismissively. "Maybe."

"What was it like? Growing up with him?" He asked, knowing they had hours left on the road, and it would be nice to spend that time talking about things they didn't know about each other yet. Steering the conversation away from his music taste was just an added bonus.

Erin sighed and lowered the volume again. This time, Jay didn't complain or move to change it.

"It was interesting. I mean I can barely say I grew up with him—he only took me in when I was sixteen. I was basically an adult."

"He gave you his card?"

Her eyes still on the road, she nodded. "I was his CI for a while. He gave me his card, told me that there was a way out if I wanted it. At first, I found the idea ridiculous and I never planned on calling. But for some reason, I kept that damn card. And when I got into some trouble… well if we're talking, I might as well tell you the whole story. You saw my file anyway, right?"

Jay nodded, trying not to recall the picture of the hopeless girl he saw in there. Trying not to think about the mugshot, the charges, the aliases, the story surely hidden behind each of them.

"I was pretty much on my own by that point. Bunny had stopped coming home all together, and when she did, she was so high she was of little help. She would usually grab whatever valuables she could pawn and then she'd be off for weeks at a time. I was hanging out with all the wrong people, and Charlie—you remember Charlie, right?" Jay nodded, his expression serious. "Well Charlie was definitely one of them. He kept the heat on and the food on the table, but he expected certain things in return. Nothing was ever free with Charlie. So one time, he set this deal up with his buddy, and I couldn't exactly say no. If he left, I'd starve."

"Erin, you don't have to…"

"It's fine. If you hadn't ran before, you might now. Except you can't because you're in a car. So the first time, it was just a hand job. I thought that would be it, so I did it. But there was another buddy, and another, until things started to progress. It's not exactly a part of my life that I'm proud about." She kept her eyes steadily on the road to avoid looking at his face, which in her mind was undoubtfully disappointed.

"I was… One day..." Her voice got strangled when she said it, unable to get the words out, and he made sure to reach over and squeeze the hand resting on her thigh reassuringly.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"The cops showed up. I got arrested for solicitation. I was released because I was a minor. But that was my second arrest. I had one for possession of weed, and if I got one more, I was done. So one day, me and Annie, we come home and we find a guy on the floor. We tried CPR, but none of us was particularly trained at it, and the guy was too far gone. So then we had a dead guy on our floor, and Charlie panicking. I was so sure I was gonna go to jail. My life had finally caught up with me. So, since I had no other choice anyway, I called Voight. I used that stupid card. Told him that if he got me out of it, I would work hard and get myself free from that life. And he came…"

"That's one hell of a story."

"Yeah, one that we're not telling our kids, ever," she told him with a hint of a smile.

"Our kids, huh?"

"Well that's if you aren't completely repulsed by me. I mean if Voight hadn't saved me, I would've ended up like Nadia."

"You saw yourself in her," he confirmed what he already suspected. It wasn't like her arrest for solicitation was news to him—he had seen her file. And hearing it in details was different, but he couldn't imagine anything she could ever tell him that would make him see her differently.

"Yeah. Anyway, Voight came, and he made it go away. He made Charlie go away. He and Camille were the first people who ever gave me something without expecting anything in return. He saw something in me."

"I'm sorry." He didn't know what else to say. He was overwhelmed by instant gratitude he felt towards the man. The facts were there all along, but knowing exactly what Voight pulled Erin out of—he saw him from a whole new perspective. "I love you."

 _And I never expect anything from you. And I never want anything from you that you don't want to give._

But the words remained unspoken. Maybe the time wasn't right, he thought, but he would let her know if she didn't already.

"How can you? How can you even look at me? How could you possibly want me after this? After knowing I literally gave out sexual favours for money?"

"Erin…"

"All I'm saying is that I would understand if you bailed. If you didn't want me anymore."

Afraid of seeing the disgust in his eyes, she kept looking straight ahead. His voice was strangled when he ordered her to pull over.

"What?"

"Pull. Over."

Her heart was pounding in her chest. Was he going to break up with her here? In the middle of the abandoned side road they were forced to take because of the work they were doing on the interstate?

Then his hand was on the seat belt, and his lips were on hers and he was kissing her like a man on a mission. His hands tugged, until she unbuckled herself and straddled his lap, her lips moving with his, thinking if this is how they went out, it would hurt even more.

"Wait, what are…?"

Erin forced herself to pull away from the warm welcoming lips and signalled the need to stop by placing her palm flat on his chest. It took her a while to catch her breath, and her fingers lingered on her swollen lips, wondering what the hell was going on.

"I want you. I always want you." His hands moved up her back, slipping underneath her shirt to draw slow circles on her skin. "I want you all the time. It's a physical reaction I can't ever get rid of."

"But…"

"You did what you did because you were in an impossible situation and trying to survive. You weren't exactly dealt great cards in the beginning. But look at you now. Do you think when I look at you, I feel anything but pride that you took the one way out that was offered and became this amazing badass woman? You have baggage—who doesn't?"

She buried her face in the crook of his neck, where it was warm and safe and smelled like him.

"Don't cry. I love you. I am not walking out, Erin."

"I love you, too."

She let him behind the wheel after that, needing some time to recover her defences. They realized—with the interstate being closed and all—they would probably have to spend the night, so Erin confirmed it with Voight and booked them a room at a motel. The one-day road trip just became a weekend getaway neither of them anticipated. But maybe it was exactly what they needed.

* * *

"You're a pig."

"Emotional stuff makes me hungry," Erin mumbled, as audibly as she could with her mouth full of burger and fries. "This place is amazing. Good idea."

He couldn't even disagree. The burgers were some of best he's had, and he's had a lot of burgers in his lifetime. "We should get back on the road. Staying the night or not, I want to be there before nightfall."

Her eyes searched for his—he could feel her gaze on him, but stared straight ahead at his plate. It wasn't about anything she told him in the car. Or maybe, in some way, it was. Because he suspected that Erin pretty much told him everything there was to know about her past, which meant he needed to be honest with her as well. And there was something he never wanted her to know.

* * *

"You've been quiet," she said to him when they were back in the car. The meal and the emotional exhaustion made her cave in and let him drive the rest of the way. Besides, she couldn't complain about the occasional brush of his hand—the one he wasn't using to steer—on her thigh.

"Thinking about secrets of my own."

"I just meant to force you to spill the beans," she murmured, grinning softly. Her eyes were glued to the window, so she didn't see the shadows dancing on his face.

"Well there is something I've never told you. Or anyone."

Her initial instinct was to make a joke—ask him if he had an evil twin or something. But she stopped mid-sentence, turning her gaze back to him. "What is it?"

"I was back for good already when this happened, but I was still pretty messed up. I refused therapy, refused to talk to anyone about it. There was this funeral I went to, in Vegas. One of us didn't make it back, and that was kind of his wish, so we did it. We all got pretty hammered, and the next morning when I woke, I had a wedding ring on my finger."

"You're married."

She said it as a fact, as if it wasn't scandalizing and horrible. He cringed at the word and shook his head.

"I was. We got an annulment right after. It was a stupid drunken thing, it didn't mean anything."

"I know." The softness in her voice made it worse, and he just wished she'd tell him what she was thinking. Was she mad?

"I just thought since we're getting everything out in the open," he offered as an explanation and she nodded in reply.

"I'm glad I heard it from you." She paused for a moment. "Hey, Jay? You sure you don't have any babies out there too?"

"Shut up."

She giggled. "Just wondering."

* * *

"Is there anything else I should know?" She asked, since it had become their whole road trip thing. They had a little over an hour left, and the sky had turned a pretty pink colour, illuminated by the last rays of sun. They stopped for gas and she snatched the keys out of his hands, reclaiming her spot behind the wheel.

"Well, you know most of it already. I was this scrawny kid in school, unable to stand up for myself. It filled my dad with rage that I wasn't a real man. He was never happy with me. He and Will had some problems as well, but it never got as bad. So as soon as I could, I left. I thought I was finally free, but I think a part of me chose the military because I thought I'd finally be a man in his eyes. I mean what's manlier than a soldier? I was good with the gun, it made sense at the time. When I still believed in the war we were fighting. I killed people there. Guilty or innocent—who the fuck knows? When you're over there you just follow orders.

"Sometimes I dream about you getting shot, because it's what I deserve. I took other people's loved ones away, so I deserve the same."

He blinked through the tears, about to ask why she stopped the car at the curb, but then she launched herself at him best as she could, crushing their lips together in a breath-taking kiss. Her lips moved like their only purpose was to erase the pain until there was none left, and for a moment he really thought they might have healing abilities, those lips of hers.

"I love you. You fought the war for our country, Jay, and whatever your actions were following orders, I know that you fought for something you believed in at the time, because that's what you do every day now. You go to the streets and risk your life for something you believe in."

 _You're a good man._

"We're quite a pair, huh?" He asked, resting his forehead against her head, finding the position comforting.

"Oh, yeah."

"Not that I'm not enjoying this, but we need to get to the hotel."

Because she deserved so much better than a car, he thought, trying to think of something other than her lips on his.

* * *

"There are not enough pillows. I don't know how I'm gonna sleep."

"Here," he gave her his pillow, nudging her affectionately. It left him without any, but he didn't mind. Overseas, he's had worse sleeping arrangements. Besides, she was pressing up against him, still wrapped in the sheet, still warm from his touch, so he was unable to deny her anything.

"Thank you," she murmured. "I'm glad we took this road trip. I know it was for work, but I feel like we… I don't know, connected."

"Yeah. Same here."

"And if that didn't send you running, then probably nothing will," she came to a conclusion with a content sigh. Her past wasn't something she thought about every day, but it still lingered in the background, threatening to expose itself. The relief that came with telling him—with realizing he still loved her and wanted her, was a high of its own that no drug could ever duplicate.

"I'm here."

And perhaps it was Erin's subconscious finally getting rid of the fear that he'll leave, or the newly-found intimacy between them, but that night, her head found that the best pillow in the world was the chest of the man she loved. And no pillow could ever come close to the comfort offered by the steady beating of his heart.

* * *

 **A/N2: SOOO, yeah, my version of the roadtrip, with loads of confessions, kisses, and other cute stuff. Did you like it? Which part did you like the most?**

 **I made most of Erin's story up, including bits and pieces we got from the show. Just in case anyone was wondering.**


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